


Dream Machine Broke: A1

by cam94509



Series: Dream Machine Broke [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Character tags for perspective characters only, Community College AU, F/F, I took some liberty in making Roxy and Rose struggle with school in similar ways that I do, Jane/Roxy is the primary ship, Near Future, no SBurb AU, trolls are still trolls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-03-24 14:16:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 70,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13812927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cam94509/pseuds/cam94509
Summary: When Jane and Roxy were 16, they were close. Really, really close.Five years later, it seems like the world has come between them- Jane Crocker is the heiress to a major company, and Roxy Lalonde is definitely not an alcoholic, no, unquestionably not, obviously. They might have been almost-lovers half a decade ago, but can they remain anything now?Dave Strider is barely an adult, but he already has some stories that he never wants to tell. Living to not tell those stories, however, has left him isolated, anxious, and hundreds of miles from where he grew up. Will he make it?





	1. Prologue: Jane: Kiss her// Karkat: Point out the muttering

Your name is Jane Crocker, and you, your younger brother, and your father are moving across the country from your home in Washington to a suburb of New York City. You’re eight years old - old enough that you’re leaving behind friends,but not really old enough to understand the complex reasons for your move. You don’t understand the town you were growing up in had started shrinking years ago, that the economic pressure toward urbanization, combined with increasing transportation costs caused by early responses to warming had hit exurbs hard in areas with limited investment in mass transportation. You just know Dad got a job somewhere else, and that he seemed relieved by that.

You are not relieved. Your life is uprooted, you are separated from your friends. You’ll admit you feel less out of place here in this place, you’re never the only kid in a classroom who isn’t white, but on the other hand, you had friends before, and your first year is very lonely, because you are an outsider in another sense.

It’s not until the next year that she enters your life.

“Today, we have a new student!” Your 4th grade teacher says with false brightness. That kind of annoys you; you’re not a little kid any more.

“Hi!” The new girl says, and she’s almost as excited as your teacher is pretending to be, except the girl seems  _ actually  _ that excited,  “My name is Roxanne, but you all can call me Roxy!”

She sits down next to you, and you, swelling at pride with knowing this, say “You should have said ‘you can all call me Roxy!’”

She rolls her eyes.

“My name is Jane.” You say. You figure that now that you’ve shown how smart you are, she’ll want to be your friend right away.

Unsurprisingly, you are not fast friends.

* * *

You almost forget about her.

Four years later, toward the end the of the year, however, you watch of 8th graders making fun of her. They’re calling her “dyke”. That’s a word you recognize, but only as something the older boys call you when you show that you’re smarter than them. They’re calling her another word that rhymes with it, too. You don’t know what the word means, but she seems to take it harder than being called dyke.

She and you haven’t gotten along, but you can’t watch someone be bullied like this without responding. You resolve to prank each and every one of the boys, taking a picture of them on your cell phone. Your family is super into pranks, but you’ve gotten to the point where you understand that most people don’t like being pranked. You decide it’s the perfect revenge.

You sneak into the school that night, and set up a series of buckets, whip cream pies, and the like, so that you can set them off subtly but intentionally throughout the day. You actually only get three of them, but you show Roxy the pictures in your English class.

She laughs. It’s warm and melodic, and you have a fuzzy feeling you think must be real friendship. It looks kind of like she’s crying, too.

“Thank you.” She says, still laugh/crying. She throws her arms around you, it’s a warm hug, and you realize how much you’ve missed friendship and contact since you moved up here.

You and she are inseparable after that. She asks you to play fewer pranks in her defense and stand up for her more in the moment: She says she’s grateful, but it’s not what she needs. So you play fewer pranks, and stand up for her when you can. You start hanging out at each other’s houses - you learn of her mother’s alcoholism and mediocre parenting. She’s often absent but never quite neglectful, and sometimes present in the most embarrassing ways.

You meet her little sister, who is more smartass than you were at the same age, which, at this point, you realize is quite a feat. You learn what the other word meant, and why it stung more: neither of you knew quite what “dyke” meant when you were called it, but Roxy knows an antisemitic slur when she hears one.

You learn of her siblings in Texas, and their multimillionaire father. She seems not to have anything bad to say about him, but everything about her posture and tone when she speaks of him indicates that she hates him.

You learn that Roxy more than just bubbly, friendly personality and nice face. She’s a genius. You’ve always thought you were a smart kid - you tested into the part time Quest program when you were back in Washington, but Roxy is so smart she makes you feel a little insecure.

You maintain contact with a child of family friends. He’s technically, like, your fourth cousin or something, but you’re nowhere near close enough that your attraction to him feels even a little bit incesty.

You’re thirteen when you introduce him to Roxy and she introduces you to Dirk - over the internet, obviously, none of them are in New York. You’re fourteen when Dirk steals Jake out from under your nose. You’re also fourteen when Roxy starts drinking - it’s just a party thing at first, and she invites you to a couple of the parties and you can’t say that you never drink with her, although by the end of that year, she’s always drinking more than you.

You’re fifteen and a half when you realize that not everybody has wet dreams of their best friend, that that isn’t a normal heterosexual thing, or, if it is, it’s uncommon, not practically once a week. You’re terrified by this. Roxy is no longer your only friend, but she is unquestionably your closest friend, and besides, you’re straight. You had a crush on Jake for three years, and you maybe still do! It’s possible you could even make a move on it, since he and Dirk broke up.

But she’s so… she’s so amazing. She’s so pretty, and smart, and clever and she’s always, always one step ahead of you when she’s drunk and twelve steps ahead of you when she’s sober.

You are more fifteen going on sixteen and less fifteen and a half when Roxy invites you to another party. You haven’t gone to one with her in a couple months - it’s hard to watch her when she gets as drunk as she goes to most parties, and she seems to have caught on that you feel that way, but she still sometimes invites you, and this time, you have a hard time saying no.

When you show up, the music is loud enough that you can feel it in your feet, and you wish you brought earplugs to protect your hearing. When you walk in the door, the front room is packed, and it smells strongly of weed. You’re tempted to text Roxy and tell her you’re going home - you adore her, but if your dad catches you smelling like smoke, you’ll need a damn good explanation, and you’ll probably get grounded anyway.

Almost. But you haven’t seen her in a week, and you feel antsy if you haven’t seen her in a few days. A week is difficult to handle. So you walk in, and you look for her. It takes a moment to find her in the crowd, but find her you do, sitting at a table, talking to some boy. You feel jealousy roil in your gut, before it’s replaced by the hollow emptiness of knowing that she’s not yours to be jealous about.

When she sees you, though, her face lights up and the last, bitter tinges of envy are rooted out, and the emptiness is filled with butterflies.

“Hi!” She says. She’s got a red cup in her hand, but it looks like you got here early enough to catch her sober. You grab a beer off the table, avoiding the mixed drinks because you have no idea how strong they are, and you don’t strictly trust them, anyway: You don’t know the host, and you’ve been told to never take an open drink from someone you don’t know. Your dad might not approve of what you’re doing, but he’s made sure to teach you enough to be safe.

The beer has another advantage - it tastes vile enough that you won’t be tempted to get very drunk, because any amount of drinking will be unpleasant. You crack it open, and take a sip. You don’t want to stand out as not drinking at all, after all.

“Hi, Rolal.” You say. She smiles at the nickname, and then says, “Hey, Jane, I’d like you to meet my friend Dylan! He was just saying-”

“Hey, uh, I have something I need to go do.” He says, and scurries off.

Roxy laughs, “Lol, I’m so glad he’s gone.”

You hide a cringe at her using text speak out loud. This has always puzzled you - she is the smartest person you’ve ever met, and she disguises it in what is frankly an obnoxious tendency to speak as informally as she possibly can. Still, you laugh, both because you’re glad you don’t have a reason to be jealous, and because you’re glad you could help.

“Well, I’m glad I could help.” You say, stating your thoughts.

You and she make small talk - one of your least favorite things about parties is that you always feel like someone could be listening in, and so you have a hard time talking about anything that feels remotely private. You hear somebody suggest party games, and someone else suggests seven minutes in heaven. You’d just as soon avoid the whole thing, but Roxy drags you along.

They’re choosing who goes into the closet by spinning a bottle. During the first round, the bottle lands on a boy and a girl, and the crowd oohs slightly. Seven minutes later, they walk out of the closest. You’re pretty sure nothing actually happened between them - neither of their hair looks notably different, nor do either of them seem to breathing heavily. You’re pretty sure you hear a sigh of disappointment - you find it unsurprising that the party goers are living vicariously through the folks in the closet. 

The next time, the bottle lands on two boys, and largely, there's a chuckle through the boys in the crowd. You see a couple girls who seem to be  _ very intrigued  _ by this outcome, and you’re honestly not sure which of those you find more unnerving - the outward homophobia of the boys, or the fact that a few of the girls are clearly thinking of the two boys potential sexualities as something to consume - it’s the same homophobia, you suppose, just modified by whether or not the thing that makes the audience member uncomfortable is consumable.

Roxy seems put off by the laughter, which you suppose makes sense. She is openly bisexual, and she knows that, on some level, the laughter is about her. You suppose if you are attracted to her, the laughter is about you, as well. Nobody has dared make fun of her for being bi in years, not since you were all old enough to understand what sexuality was and not since she became  _ cool _ and thus broadly protected from social mockery anway.

You still remember kids calling her a dyke, though, and you know she remembers better. 

You put a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she smiles at you. You like that you can communicate like this. In the moments when you aren’t pretending you don’t have a crush, it’s moments like this you remember when you try to convince yourself to tell her. If you can communicate like this, express a world without a word, then you could make an amazing pair.

The boys come out, looking like they might have done  _ something _ , since their hair is a little messed up, but you’re pretty sure that it wasn’t anything too intense. Neither of them is breathing heavily in the slightest.

Somebody spins the bottle, and after a few rotations, it lands on Roxy. You’re jealous/terrified, because that means that the bottle could land on someone else and she could hook up with them or it could land on you. You start drinking your beer faster, hoping nobody notices, as she spins the bottle.

The first time it passes you, you’re struck with a wave of anticipation and terror - if it’s you, that could be everything you want or it could be awful. Still, the bottle is moving fast enough that you know it won’t stop this rotation. The second rotation it passes you, and the anticipation and terror is stronger because it could actually land on you. It passes you by, and you’re struck with heartbreak/relief. It comes back around one last time, inches closer to you…

And it stops, pointing straight at you. There’s some hooting and hollering from a few of the boys in the crowd, and you roll your eyes, your irritation at them the only thing preventing you from broadcasting your terror to the assembled group.

Roxy leads you by the hand to the closet, closes the door, and apparently having noticed the terror on your face, says, in a quiet tone, “Look, you don’t have to do  _ anything _ you don’t want to.”

You nod, and you’re pretty sure she can’t see that, so you say aloud, “I know. Uh-”

And the words come out like a waterfall, exactly what you mean, at first, ‘I, uh, if you’re A-OK with it, I think I’d like to kiss you.” So far, so good, but you are Jane Crocker, and you are nothing if not adroit at sticking your foot in your mouth, and so you start rambling, “Obviously, if you’re OK with it! I’d like someone to practice kissing with” stupid stupid stupid gosh this is just like when you tried to confess to Jake, “So, uh, if you’d do this, because I think you’re really cute” nope nope nope nope that’s too honest and god you have to be confusing her so much, “So, uh, yeah.”

“Uh, totes?” She says. She sounds confused, which is fair, because you pretty much just no homo’d the fuck out of what was supposed to be a confession of your feelings, and then confessed your feelings after that, so…

So you lean in and kiss her, because she just said that was OK, and you’re not sure you have the ability to calm yourself enough to give her an actual explanation of what you meant.

Your lips meet hers, and at first, there are none of the fireworks you have been told to expect by every piece of literature you’ve ever read about love. It is awkward and sloppy, and not in the cute “bump noses” kind of way. It’s just not great - there’s no movement at first, because neither you really know what you’re doing, and then the movement is all wrong.

But then, she leans in more, and you lose yourself somewhat, and then you’re more excited than you are nervous, and then it’s awkward in a cute way. It’s not electrifying until she grazes your upper lip with her teeth. You’re not sure if it’s intentional or not, but it’s like her teeth are the points of a taser dart, and between them, you are electrified.

You lean in harder, pressing your teeth to her lips - if it worked on you, maybe it will work on her. She lets out a satisfying gasp, and you mentally note that, if you get a chance to do this again, that particularly is a thing you should do again.

She pushes you gently off her, and for a moment you think you’ve gone too far, before her lips start to trail down the side of your face, toward your neck. She nips gently at it, and you gasp loudly enough that you’re slightly worried that someone in the hall might hear you. After a moment, she begins kissing it roughly, and what she’s doing is thrilling enough that for a moment, you miss that she is pulling at the skin - that’s she’s giving you a hickey.

For a moment, you consider stopping her, but you don’t want her to stop as much as you’re a little worried what people will think. But then, everyone will know anyway: Your appearance will already be noticeably disturbed anyway.

Still, you push her after a few moments. Two can play at that game, and you pin her to the wall, pulling on the skin of her neck with your mouth. The noise she makes is nothing short of obscene, and you’re really into that. After a moment, her fingers start to slip down your front, toward your chest, and she asks “is this OK?”

You pull away from her. “I’m not sure-” You begin, not really sure how to phrase this. You want her, but there are a lot things you want to say first. To you, that feels like sex, and what you’re doing doesn’t, so you’re OK doing this once, but that…

You haven’t expressed your feelings. You haven’t told what you mean. You also imagine yourself as not the kind of person who has sex with a romantic partner the first time you kiss, but that’s less important here than the fact that you want to say what you mean before that happens.

She gets your intent is to reject her advance, at least, and pulls her hands away, “Alright, totally. Uh… what do you want to do from here?”

You release her, because this kind of feels like a situation where you want to be talking where nobody is pressing anyone against a wall.

“If you’d like, we can go back to kissing.” You suggest, hopefully.

She nods, and you do.

It’s probably half of the time until the door opens, and you’re, predictably, caught in the middle of making out. The room hoots and hollers, and then the bottle is spun and within a few minutes, everyone but you and Roxy have basically forgotten what happened.

You don’t talk anymore about it that that night, but Roxy holds your hand for quite some time after you leave the hallway closet, and that makes you hopeful.

You manage to hide the hickey from your dad by dressing cleverly and using makeup. On Monday, you’re wearing a scarf - you’re lucky it’s unseasonably cold, because otherwise, you would have to try to hide it with just makeup. That’s possible when you’re hiding a hickey from one person, but you’re relatively certain that without the advantage of always being conscious of the angles, you probably couldn’t hide it from a crowd.

Roxy wears hers openly. You’re not sure if that’s humiliating, or beautiful. You can’t help but feel proud to know you did that, but at the same time, everyone will know what you got up to, and you’re not super proud of how you handled the situation.

She looks somewhat displeased when she sees your scarf, and you wonder what she’s thinking.

“Hey, uh, Roxy.” You say, trying to find the courage to confess, “Uh, about the time in the closet.”

“Yeah?” She asks.

“Would, uh, would you like to do that again sometime?” You feel proud for a moment, before you realize that you have communicated absolutely nothing you meant to communicate here. You meant to say, ‘oh, hey, that was really special, and it was something romantic to me!’ or maybe ask on a date, and instead, you’ve asked to make out with her again.

You feel like an idiot.

“Sure.” She says, and she looks confused, and you are drowning in your own embarrassment. Why won’t your mouth ever say what you mean?!

She comes over to your house that night, and you do, in fact, ‘do that again’. In between two kisses, you find a moment to breath, and almost tell her how you feel, but she kisses you again before you can get the words out.

Over the weeks, you go further than you stopped yourself from going at the party, but you continuously prevent the two of you from doing anything you would imagine being ‘all the way’. That way, you can save that for after you tell her what this is to you, even if you’re pretty sure that you’ve settled into an unfortunate friends-with benefits situation.

The situation has the upside that you see Roxy sober more. It’s not that she is sober more in total, but she tends to drink less when you’re around and more when you aren’t, largely because you’re much more awkward with doing… stuff… with her when she’s drunk, and she catches on to that fast.

You start dropping hints. You come out to your group of friends as bisexual - you hope that in so doing you’ll make her think that it’s reasonable to tell you how  _ she _ feels, if she’s into you. You know that’s a silly thing to do, but you’re desperately afraid that if you tell her how you feel, she’ll stop what you have, and you…

You’re so scared.

At night, it’s sometimes hard to sleep, imagining the dates you’d take her on if she said yes to your confession. At the same time, you are ever more convinced that your attraction is one-sided: She is decisive where you indecisive - well spoken in the few times that you are not. You are sure that if she loved you, she would say.

One afternoon, her little sister walks in on you.

“I absolutely did  _ not _ need to see that!” She says.

“Then you shoulda knocked, Rose.”

Rose slams the door and storms off.

You are mortified. Roxy looks at your blush, and frowns.

“Whoops, sorry.” She says.

“I...  for what?”

“I know I am, well, this is kinda a dirty secret, and I guess that was probably mortifying, and I made it worse.”

You are more mortified to hear that. She thinks you think she’s a dirty secret?

“I’d never-” you begin

“But you did. It’s alright. I guess I don’t mind as much as I like what we do.”

“I… I didn’t mean to!” You say, “If that’s how it makes you feel, we should stop! I respect you deeply and I desperately don’t want to make you feel like a dirty secret of any kind! You are a central and important part of my life, and you’re my best friend!”

“Janey.” Roxy says, smiling gently, “You say you respect me. Do you?”

“Yes, of course!” You say.

“Then don’t stop this on my account. Let me make my own decisions. I’m a big girl.”

You agree, and after a little bit of just normal hanging out, you go back to making out.

You hug her super hard when she leaves that night. You hope that this will express how you really feel.

You also know that if you want to tell her, you have to use your words.

A week later, your maternal grandmother dies. Since your mother is dead, you are next in line to inherit everything she owned, and one of the things she owned was a massive baking company.

You don’t have to accept it, but it’s worth a huge amount of money, and even here in the New York suburbs, your father is struggling to keep the house. If you agree to take the company, you’ll have to move across the country, to South Carolina, to go to a private boarding school there to prepare for college, and then to a private college to prepare to inherit the company.

If you take it, your father will have one fewer mouth to feed, and you will have a substantial income of your own, even before you inherit the company, enough that your dad will definitely be able to keep the house. John will be able to avoid having to leave until he’s an adult, even if you will have to grow up a little faster. He’ll be able to go to a good college, he’ll have all the opportunities in the world.

_ You’ll _ have all the opportunities in the world. You’ll never have to worry about what you are going to do, never have to worry about not being able to protect the people you care about, because you’ll be able to give them all the things they need.

Your dad makes it clear that he will absolutely respect whatever decision you make, and that he doesn’t want to force you away from having a normal life. But for you, it’s not really a choice. You have to take it. You want to take it.

You wish you could stay as well, of course. You don’t want to leave Roxy behind. But she isn’t yours, and you aren’t hers. She clearly doesn’t love you, and you can’t make her love you. If all that’s true, then staying behind for her sake is even more unreasonable than it would be if you  _ were _ in love, and you’re a sixteen year old. Turning down the best opportunity you’ll ever get because you love someone would be silly in the bets of cases. It’s just unreasonable to stay here for her.

You still want to. A part of you wants to believe she’ll say yes. For a while that evening, you consider calling her and asking her out, right now, and then making your decision based on that, but if she says no, and you leave, she’ll know why. Plus…

Plus, even if she says yes, you’re 16. Sure, you want to believe that every love you ever have will be  _ the one _ , but you also know that realistically, a relationship you start at 16 won’t stick with you your whole life.

You don’t want to go. But every reasonable part of your brain says you have to.

The next day, you invite Roxy over to your house. You tell her you want to have a serious conversation with her. Her face is somewhere between hope and terror, and you have no idea how to interpret that.

“Can we take a walk?” You ask when she arrives, and she nods.

Once you get a few minutes away, you start with an apology. You’re not really sure how she feels about you - you’re pretty sure it’s not the same as you feel about her, but even so, you’re still about to break up with her.

“I’m sorry.” You say, “My grandmother died, and while I never knew her, I was first in line to inherit her company. I’m going to take the offer.”

You have to pause to breathe. You feel like the words are so much bigger than you, that all this is so much bigger than you and it’s like everything is falling apart and Roxy looks crushed by your words, but she nods.

You don’t want to say more. You can’t. But you have to! You have to explain, or she won’t understand why you’re doing this, “It’s wonderful for my family. You know what it’ll mean for John. And- And it’s a really good future for me, but it means I’m leaving for South Carolina. I’ll miss you, Roxy. I’ll miss you so much.”

Her voice breaks as she responds, “I… Yeah, ok, you don’t have to be sorry. Yeah, sure, I’ll miss you a lot, but we never established anything that means that I have any right to demand you stay, and even if we did, I’m not going to tell you not to take a great chance when you get one. Janey, I’m proud of you!”

She doesn’t look proud of you. She looks devastated.

For a moment, you’re sure that if you told her you loved her, she would reciprocate. Moreover, you have little to lose if she doesn’t - you’re leaving anyway, your… whatever is over, no matter what she says.

But that’s also the rub. No matter what she says, this is over. Her telling you she loves you now would only add insult to injury, it could not keep you here. You have to go. Your family needs it. Her telling you she doesn’t love you would hurt even if it didn’t end a relationship. This isn’t win win, it’s lose lose.

What you want to have done is told her months ago. To have told her that first night. Yes, it would have made this harder, but you feel like this is the end of childhood, and you desperately wish you’d had the chance to experience this relationship, or the closure to know that you didn’t miss anything.

But telling her now wouldn’t bring back what you missed out on.

“Rolal.” You almost-whisper, “I’m still sorry. It’s obvious this stings you, and I don’t want that. I don’t really have a choice, you know finances are tight. I want to stay so bad. I hate what this does to you.”

“Jane, it’s okay. You don’t have to pretend that this was anything serious, lol.” She says ‘lol’, she doesn’t actually laugh, “I understand that this wasn’t like that for you. I’m OK with that, I didn’t expect it to be otherwise. I’m glad we got to do what we did.”

“I’m glad, too.” It’s true. You wish you could have done more, said everything you meant, dug in deep into what you wanted, but you can’t bring that back now. What you can do is more forward, and… and you’ll do your best.

The rest of the school year is weird. Roxy rubber bands between actively avoiding you and actively seeking you out, and you probably aren’t much less weird. The summer is entirely different - you both know you’re leaving come fall, and so you have a few months together, and neither of you wants to do anything else. Your arrangement, whatever it was, is over - that much is clear and mutual. If you are leaving, now is a better time to stop than later.

But, between the sleepovers, the getting coffee together, the spending every waking moment you can together, and the way that you are both comforting each other about your leaving, this feels more like you’re dating her than months of secretly making out with her ever did. There’s even a couple times when you go and watch a movie, and when she leans on you, it becomes like a date.

Whatever you were doing before was over. But that doesn’t mean your feelings are gone, and what you do those last few days really gives them roots, and lets them grow into something that much harder to kill than you expect.

The day you move, she helps you load up the boxes, and then she holds you for what must be minutes at a time before you get in the car.

“Love you, Janey”, she whispers in your ear. You don’t know how she means it, but it fills your chest with a futile hope. Maybe she feels like you do. Maybe. It just doesn’t matter either way. You’re about to be 500 miles away from her, and you will be  _ very _ busy.

“Love you, too.” You say. It’s not really what you  _ want _ to say, but what you want to say, that you love her like a girlfriend and not like a sister, like a lover, not just like a friend, isn’t a thing which saying will do any good.

So you get in the car: you’re driving yourself to the boarding school. You saw your dad off this morning, held him in your arms and cried, because he’s a wonderful man and you’re going to miss him. Your friends all have shitty or are missing parents (or, at least, ambiguous shitty, in the case of Dave and Dirk, since no one has told you what exactly Roxy hates about them), and that makes you value the man who raised you all the more. He’s not perfect, but he does his best, and that’s something.

You stop about midway through the drive - you’re only newly licensed and you haven’t driven this far before, and while most of the functions of the driving can be handled by the computer assist, you still have to do enough that you don’t want to be falling asleep at the wheel, and this drive would be hard on even an experienced driver.

You, however, have no shortage of money, so you stop in a hotel along the way. It’s not a super expensive one - you still have middle class sensibilities, even if you now have a more-than-middle-class income (and wildly more than mildly class net worth).

You text Roxy that night.

GG: Hello, Rolal.  
GG: I’m safely at my hotel room.  
GG: I already checked in with my father, since he’s likely more than a little nervous.  
TG: hii jaeny!  
TG: *hi *jany  
TG: *janey

Ah, it’s one of  _ those _ nights. Fine, fine. She’s drunk, that happens. She seems more drunk than you’re used to, but if you weren’t driving, you might be drunker than you usually get when you drink right now.

Although, for you, that would mean maybe two shots and beer. For her it means more like 5 shots, and two glasses of wine. Plus, you’re relatively convinced that she feels different from the way you do, so it’s still a little surprising.

GG: You’re wasted.  
TG: shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh noboby knows  
TG: *nobooby naield it

You can’t help but laugh softly at “nobooby”.

GG: Hoo hoo  
GG: Anyway, I hope you’re well.  
TG: nnot realy.   
TG: *i giv uip  
TG: u left and i miss you  
TG: a lort   
GG: I miss you, too  
GG: Although I imagine it’s surely harder for you, since you haven’t been distracted driving all day  
TG: and im not the one fuckin leving  
TG: u shuldn’t act li,e ur the one being left behind here. 

Is…

Is she mad at you for leaving?

GG: I thought you said you were proud of me.  
GG: Are you angry at me? ****GG: For leaving?  
TG: a little  
TG: gbeing produ and mad arent’ mutuallty excklusive.   
TG: im def proud of u jany  
TG: but im kinda bitter too  
TG: ur like muy best tfriend  
TG: and ur eavling me  
TG: *leaving  
GG: It’s not about you, Roxy, it’s about me.  
TG: wath a way to brteak up with a girl janey  
TG: it’s not u it’s me  
TG: clasisic  
TG: ij a freinds way i mean  
GG: I don’t know what you want me to say.  
GG: I wish I could make all my decisions about you.  
GG: But I can’t.  
TG: butu coudl consider jyu feelings.  
TG: u were minje  
GG: I am my own person  
TG: i nkow that  
TG: but htat doesn’t eman you aren’t doin me werong.  


****

You’re not really sure what’s going on, but she’s drunk off her ass, and you feel like she’s being kind of unfair here.

GG: Rolal.  
GG: Text me when you’re sober again.  
GG: I’ve just left behind everyone I loved and cared about, and all of my friends, to follow an opportunity.  
GG: I hope you can support me in that.  
GG: If you can’t, I’m not sure you were as good a friend as I thought you were.  
GG: This really isn’t about you.  
GG: And you shouldn’t make it about you.  
GG: And you’re not the one who’s losing the most in all this.  
GG: We can talk when you’re sober.  
TG: wait  
GG: Until then, leave me alone.  
TG: wait!  
GG: ttyl. 

Your phone buzzes a couple more times, and you start properly crying for the third time today. You thought she was so good for you, but maybe she isn’t.

The next morning, you check your phone. The oldest messages are from last night, although a couple of the messages you already have are from this morning.

TG: wait  
TG: im shory  
TG: i didnt mean anuy of that  
TG: i she urf beign a tightass  
TG: well then fuck u  
TG: alright upon waking up  
TG: fuck  
TG: i actually said all that  
TG: alright  
TG: i didn’t mean any of that  
TG: well i guess i meant that i was bitter  
TG: but i never meant for u to know that  
TG: just got too drunk i guess  
TG: and i definitely didn’t mean to berate you  
TG: i know this is harder for you than for me  
TG: and im sorry about what i said  
TG: although to be totally honest i am laughing a little at ‘it’s not u it’s me’  
TG: anyway pls get back to me when u read this  
TG: sorry.  
GG: I would say no worries, but I was actually really hurt.  
GG: But I forgive you, I understand you’re having a hard time, too.  
GG: Also, I know you were drunk, so I understand that you weren’t saying what you meant.  
TG: i want to say i didn’t mean to hurt u  
TG: but i dont remember that much TG: sorry  
GG: I have to get on the road. No worries, alright, Rolal? We’re cool. :B  
TG: aiight  
TG: talk to u tonight?  
GG: Of course!

You’re lying a little bit when you say it’s cool. You do forgive her, but you’re quite hurt. She’s never acted like that before - normally, when she gets more drunk than usual, she just becomes a little bit clingy. You suppose that this is clinginess too, but it’s…It’s possessive, and while you’re very OK with being clung to, you are  _ not _ OK with this possessive bullshit. Still, she seems legitimately sorry, so you’ll let it go this time. 

It’s a long day on the road, but you make it to the school in one piece. You text Roxy that night, and it’s a much more pleasant conversation. She’s still drunk, but that’s nothing new - she’s been drunk every night you texted her for quite some time. The next weeks are exhausting - you meet a bunch of new people, but you feel out of place. You might be the most elite of the people here, on some level, but you were raised by a man who was by no means old money, and so you don’t have the kind of pedigree or behavior that the people here have.

You get a feeling a lot than when people are being kind to you, they’re sucking up. You can tell that people are making fun of you behind your back - they clearly see you as uncultured. On the other hand, some of them are smart enough that they understand you to be a powerful connection.

Every night during those first couple weeks, you text Roxy. The situation here is such that you feel isolated, and lonely. You don’t trust the people here. As a result, you don’t start drifting apart from Roxy, like you expected. You just drift closer, fall deeper into your crush.

After a couple weeks, you make an active effort to text Roxy less. You never manage to get below texting her one night in three - a crush is a powerful magnet, as is loneliness. You try for half a year to sever yourself from her, and it seems like she’s trying to do the same. You’re not quite sure why, and it hurts you a little, but on some level it’s convenient. You almost make a decent team.

The problem with your attempt to find the space to merely consider her a friend is that toward the end of those six months, the strategies you’re trying to use wind up backfiring. By avoiding each others messages for a while after they’re sent, you sometimes wind up responding in the middle of the day, and sometimes she responds then. This leads to running conversations throughout the day, which are maybe even more intimate than the midnight chats they replaced. Since you fail to get anywhere in killing your crush on her, you also find that you just get worse at avoiding her.

By the very end of the time that you are actively trying to avoid her, you are texting her more than you were when you started. At that point, you give up. You will either stop crushing on her eventually, or you will not, but this is not working. It’s only hurting you. You think you must have missed when she gave up on avoiding you.

The years wear on, and you don’t fall out of love. You do, however, pass your classes, and wind up closer to Dirk and Jake, as well Roxy. You form a tight-knit social group. Jake has moved up to the New York area, his family moving for a moderately better job, and a chance to get away from worsening climate change. Dirk is planning on “getting the fuck out of here” and to the same place. You will be the only one of your friends still stuck far away, and you hate that.

At 18, you graduate with honors, and with two years of college credit under your belt. You manage to make it up to New York to see Roxy graduate. She does not graduate with honors: She’s never been a very good student, even if she is probably the smartest of your friends. It’s wonderful to see her, and the three days you’re in the area, you spend with her. You have to leave after that, though - now that you’ve graduated highschool, you have a role to take at the company.

Roxy goes to a local community college - her grades are nowhere near good enough to get into a four year school. You go on to the elite college required of you by your contract. You take up your responsibilities at the company, and start to worry about her drinking as it gets more intense.

One night, after a rough day at school, you text her, looking for sympathy. You find her more fucked up than she’s ever been, but it’s not heavy typos. Rather, she types short, clipped messages, that don’t make full sense and take her forever to send. She eventually gets across that she’s doing acid with a friend, and you just stop texting her for the night. 

The next morning, you have the following conversation

GG: Hey, Rolal.  
GG: What in tarnation was up with you last night?  
GG: Were you telling me the truth that you were doing hard drugs?  
TG: >hard drugs  
TG: that’s adoragble janey  
TG: *adorable  
TG: not even drunk just a normal po  
TG: its perfectly safe  
GG: It is a crime!  
TG: i drink every night lol  
TG: minor in possession?  
TG: also a crime  
TG: hey u know the night we kissed the first time  
TG: and u were drunk  
GG: I wasn’t drunk, I had half a beer!  
TG: u committed mip that night too  
TG: ur a criminal janey  
GG: That is a completely different thing!  
GG: Everyone drinks when they’re 16!  
GG: Not everybody does hard drugs!  
TG: one ur being a tightass  
TG: two not everyone drinks when they’re sixteen  
TG: three acid is only kinda a ‘hard drug’  
TG: four its less worrisome than drinking because alcohol is an addictive substance  
TG: five i was with a friend ill be fine  
GG: Who was your “friend”?  
GG: Dirk moved up two days ago, I doubt he’s tripping balls.  
GG: Jake isn’t in town yet and unless someone convinced him that it was an ‘adventure’ he’s not really the type to use drugs anyway.  
TG: none of ur business janey  
TG: i want to get off jane’s judgement ride  
GG: I’m just worried about you is all.  
TG: ur just being a tightass chump is all.   
TG: and it was a boy i met at a party a couple weeks ago  
TG: he’s p hot  
TG: not really my type romantically  
TG: but he’s good in bed

You know instantly that what claws at your stomach and your throat isn’t worry but envy, but you’re still tempted to fret about her being thoughtless over the phone. You would have little room to talk- you literally had a friends with benefits relationship with her for  _ months _ , but you want some way of expressing your jealousy, expressing the fact that she is hurting you with her decisions.

But they are her decisions, not yours. You don’t get to pretend that she’s yours. She’s not. You never asked her out. You never talked about exclusivity even when you had a relationship that wasn’t just a friendship, and now all you are is friends. You don’t even want exclusivity, you don’t care who else she’s fucking! You just want her, and someone else having her and you not having her is somehow worse than not having her in the first place.

GG: And you trust him?  
TG: enough  
TG: he’s kinda an asshole  
TG: but he’s been super respectful about my boundaries and stuff  
TG: so i don’t trust him to be a good person  
TG: bc he’s not a good person  
TG: but i do trust him not to be a bad person  
GG: Well, I think he’s a bad influence, but I am your best friend, not your mother.  
TG: im the one who bought the acid janey  
TG: oh man i gotta stop typing things like that on unsecure channels  
GG: Probably a better idea to stop doing acid altogether, but yes.  
TG: w/e don’t be a tightass jane  
GG: Don’t be a dumbass, Roxy. 

You don’t talk for a couple days.

Eventually, you apologize. You say you were too judgemental, which is true. You say you’re still worried, which is true. You admit that you’re somewhat worried about her drinking. She tells you to lay off, and you tell her that you’re being honest, not trying to control her behavior. You tell her that she gets to make her own choices, and you understand that, which is true, if hard.

She tells you that you hurt her. She tells you that she forgives you. She tells you that she doesn’t want to talk about her drinking, and that she doesn’t think it’s a problem. She tells you that it feels like you’re judging her for not acting “normal.” She tells you that she thinks that’s really fucked up, and she reminds you that your friendship is built on mutual support not in the contexts where it was socially easy, but in standing up to the fucked up things the rest of the world thought.

You don’t bother her about her drinking for quite some time.

Things continue like that for a couple years. She drifts in and out of unsavory crowds. She uses some substances that you find unnerving, but she never picks up a habit of anything that isn’t alcohol. You don’t drink at all, you keep near perfect grades, you slowly pick up responsibility, although the advisory board that your grandmother left you keeps shrinking your powers because it’s not sure you’re ready to handle them.

It’s understandable at first: The original will provides far more power than a newly hired sixteen year old should ever have, and they can make some degree of amendment with you permission. As you get older, you realize that sometimes you’ve signed away more than you’ve meant to - expanding the amendment powers that the people who are supposed to  _ advise _ you is a stupid mistake, but it should be fine. You’re pretty sure they’re on your side. You don’t even consider that signing away the explicit power to unilaterally supervise parts of the company might present a problem, because these folks seem to have your best interests at heart, and there’s no question that you’re still learning.

Roxy fails some classes, but makes some progress towards an associate’s degree. She’s a fantastic scientist, and continuously passes her science classes. Moreover, she makes a point of doing research on her own outside of class. She still somehow knows more than you, even though you go to an elite university and maintain a 4.0 and she barely manages a 1.7 at a community college. You have enough credits to graduate and only don’t because you’re not allowed to take over the company until you turn 22 anyway.

A little bit more than half a year after your twentieth birthday, she sends you a link to a website of conspiracy theories about the company you are to inherit.

TG: i know none of this is ur fault  
TG: and that u don’t have a lot of power  
TG: but this shit is really fucked up  
GG: It would be.  
GG: If it were true.   
GG: Look at your source!  
GG: It’s some left-wing rag!  
GG: Obviously it’s anti corporate.  
GG: It calls my maternal grandmother the fucking  _ Batterwitch _ Rolal!  
GG: You can’t take this seriously.  


She sends you another seven links. None of them are terribly convincing, although a few are what you would call normal corporate misbehavior, and those are decently sourced.

GG: Rox.  
GG: Check your freaking sources.  
TG: i got cnn in there  
GG: THE THIRD LINK CALLS ME THE BATTERWITCH JR ROXY  
GG: HAVE YOU MADE OUT WITH “THE BATTERWITCH JR” RECENTLY?  
GG: HAVE YOU PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE SHIRT OF “THE BATTERWITCH JR?”  
TG: look i know it’s not ur fault  
TG: but the things crockercorp has done are  
TG: they’re p horrifying janey  
TG: i also don’t really appreciate that the only time we talk about our past is when one of us is angry  
TG: its kinda weird  
TG: it’d probably be better if we either talked about it openly or didn’t talk about it at all  
GG: I DON’T KNOW WHY YOU’RE FALLEN FOR THIS BULLSHIT PROPAGANDA.  
GG: BUT IT’S BULLSHIT AND IT’S PROPAGANDA.  
GG: AND I’M FRANKLY REALLY FUCKING MAD RIGHT NOW.  
GG: SO TALK TO YOU LATER, FUCKASS. 

The next time Roxy texts you is almost an entire month later.

TG: davey came up to NY today  
TG: wouldn’t tell me exactly what happened  
TG: only that he and bro had a huge fight  
TG: i know we’re not on super good terms right now  
TG: but i thought u might want to know  
TG: and im sick of fighting  
GG: I’m glad to hear that Dave is safely in New York.  
GG: Sorry to hear he fought with Bro.  
GG: I’m also sick of fighting  
GG: I take it I don’t get an apology this time?  
TG: correct  
TG: i don’t think im wrong  
TG: i think ur kinda not doing ur due diligence if im being honest  
TG: and im sure u think im being overcredulous or some bullshit  
TG: but i think maybe we can work past that?  
GG: Maybe.

You say maybe, but it’s really a foregone conclusion. You do ultimately work past it. You’re kind of frustrated that you can’t  _ not _ let her back in after she hurts you, but you really are helpless, and this isn’t even a crush anymore. It’s love. You love Roxy Lalonde.

On August 26th, you receive another message from Roxy. It’s a link to the New York Times. They’re  reporting on a genocide, and your claiming that your company had, days previously, provided significant resources to the group responsible. According to the story, one of your subsidiaries in a developing nation tried to unionize, and one of your national employees put money into a local extremist group to punish them. Said extremist group was wildly more successful than your subsidiary imagined, and used that money to buy enough arms to take over a region that was largely populated by people of an ethnic group they didn’t like. There were a few weeks of relatively unorganized mass slaughter before the government regained control of the affected region.

She follows it up with:

TG: here's a times article about your company arming an extremist group to wipe out a town after an attack on a factory and that extremist group killing 40000 people in a regional minority enthic group. r u going to claim they're conspiracy theorists too  
GG: Is it this again?  
GG: We’re not talking about this.  
TG: that’s a reliable source janey.  
GG: Sure, but they’re definitely putting a heavy spin on this one.   
GG: “Union Activists”. They did massive damage to our factory!  
GG: They fucking tried to burn the place down, Roxy!  
TG: holy shit r u defending this  
TG: i am not sure we can be friends if ur defending this  
GG: No, this wasn’t the ideal solution  
GG: But acting like the people that we were fighting were some innocent group and not TERRORISTS is a little disingenuous.   
TG: i think sabatoging the production lines of people who pay literally genocidal terrorists is probably justified janey  
GG: The people targeted were terrorists, Roxy.  
TG: alright yeah that’s quite enough  
TG: ttyl fuck u  
tipsyGnostalgic has ceased pestering gutsyGumshoe  
GG: What the heck, Roxy.

* * *

You are Karkat Vantas, and today, Monday September 1, is a beautiful warm day. You are not outside. You are stuck in a small English 101 classroom, because your classes start ungodly early in the year. Moreover, you’ve gone over the syllabus, and your readings are kind of shit. You swear, the topic of “food” couldn’t be more boring (you like food, but it is hardly the most important thing to be reading about). Moreover, you’ve got two readings about people who aren’t heterosexual white people, but the professor has managed to cast those as “special readings” somehow in the syllabus. It’s stupid, preachy, and yet shockingly not diverse.

One of your classmates mutters ‘hot’ under his breath when you all get to the section about the the lesbian woman (relatively quietly, but you hear him because he’s behind you). A girl, you think she introduced herself as Rose, responds in a similarly quiet voice.

“That’s  _ hilarious _ .” She says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I thought it was pretty funny.” The douchebag says. He thinks she’ll rise to the bait. He’s probably right, although he probably doesn’t realize that he’s the one who’s being judged.

“Yeah, it’s  _ really _ funny that you think that girls exist only for you to get off to.” She says, “Dehumanizing people? Real fun.”

He rolls his eyes, obviously unconvinced.

You fail to hold back a quiet snicker. A different young man turns on you - you didn’t catch his name - because laughing at the girl in a fight with a homophobe was maybe not your best call. “Are you laughing at my sister?” He said, loud enough that the other two will be able to hear.

“No, it’s…” You say, putting your head in your hand, quiet enough that neither of the two having the original fight can hear you. The girl, at least, has the good sense to have thought through her words and your appearance and look appropriately mortified. Getting involved in her fight would just make things worse for her, and you sympathize deeply, “It’s just,  _ dehumanizing.” _

“Well, yeah, it’s fucked up.” He says, “People being treated like objects makes them not get treated as people.”

“Later.” You say, “I don’t want to make this about me.”

You hate it when Kankri makes things that are absolutely not about him into things that are completely about him, and much as you want to give Rose’s brother what for, you aren’t going to do that on the first day of class.

Rose’s brother turns to her, and she shrugs, as if to say  _ yeah, let him explain it later. _

She mouths  _ Sorry _ to you after her brother turns back to his work.

You shrug.  _ Whatever _ you mouth back. It was just kind of funny in context, that’s all.

The class returns to being incredibly boring - you know a thing or two about literature already, and the craft of writing is hardly unfamiliar to you, plus, you get through nothing but the syllabus until you get 50 minutes in.

There’s a 10 minute break, and Rose’s brother walks up to you.

“Why was it funny?” He looks like might still be upset with you, although he lacks the appearance that he might become violent if you keep poking, something you’ve come to expect from angry human men, so you’re not fully sure.

“ _ Dehumanizing. _ Why was it funny?” You’re somewhat surprised that he hasn’t figured it out in the fifty minute first half of the class period. He looks puzzled.

“I… don’t see what you see, or what Rose sees.” He says.

“Alright, fuckwit.” You say, and wow apparently you’re shouting, “I’m gonna break this down for you. Why am  _ I _ objecting to the world ‘dehumanizing’. I want you to take a look at me, and think about the word.” You’re pretty sure you hear an ‘oh’, but you continue, because once you’ve started a rant, there’s an inertia that makes it pretty hard to stop, “Dehumanizing, verb, present tense. Root word? Fucking  _ HUMAN _ . As in, you know,  _ homo sapien _ . As in, you know, not some of the people in that very classroom. It wasn’t a big deal because she was angry and had good reason to be, and fuck, I’m ranting, so no one can accuse me of being careful with my words when I’m angry, but holy shit, how can you be so dense to not realize why I might think the word choice was at least a little funny?”

The boy looks… actually, he looks kind of guilty, “Sorry, man, I didn’t mean to-”

You shrug. The anger passes easily, because you were frustrated about him being  _ dumb _ , not because you actually felt excluded, “It’s nothing. Just don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“Yeah, of course, sorry.” He agrees.

He wanders off, muttering to himself about  _ something _ . He doesn’t sound angry, just like he’s thinking, so you shrug it off as him being a weird kid. Nothing illegal about being a weird kid, at least not yet.

You suppose you’re not really a kid anymore, and he isn’t one, either. That’s a weird, big thought, one that you don’t want to deal with, so you choose not to. You certainly don’t feel like an adult, now, even though highschool is over and you’re in college. Well, kind of college - you’re spending these two years at a local community college because money has always been kind of tight, between your three parents and their six kids. Psi brought in a real income, but neither “former revolutionary” nor “former revolutionary's disciple” bring in a lot of money if “former revolutionary” becomes “intergalactic refugee.”

You have to walk back into the classroom, with your ten minutes up, and your absolute worst fear is realized. The word  _ ICEBREAKERS! _ Is written on the board, and you pinch your cheek. It’s real. The icebreakers are real. When you get back to your desk, there’s a piece of paper on your desk.

It has four questions listed on it, “What’s your name?”, “What is your ideal vacation?”, “what animal would you be, and why?”, and “Two truths and a lie about you.” Well, the last one isn’t a question, just a prompt, but you figure it’s close enough for this count.

The teac- professor, you mentally correct, the professor comes back in and pairs you off with another classmate. You go through the icebreakers, which are still awkward, but less awkward than you expect, and then most of the time slip into pointless small talk. Eventually, you wind up paired up with Rose’s brother.

“What’s your name?” You’re tempted to make a joke about his sunglasses, but you decide not to. No need to be a dick, plus, he could have a real reason for needing them.

“Dave Strider.” He says, “Yours?”

“Karkat Vantas. These questions are dumb, do you just want to skip to the part where we make small talk?” You say.

“Nah, man, I want an excuse to tell you about why crows are great.” Dave laughs - you note, idly, that it’s a nice laugh, “Besides, it’s not like the small talk is  _ more _ fun than the activity.”

“Fine. Ideal vacation?”

“My ideal vacation is a chance to go back to Houston. I haven’t been able to go back since I left, and I miss some friends down there.”

That’s a surprisingly good answer.

“It would be nice to see a less garbage country” You offer. It’s not a great answer, but it’s true enough.

“Where?” Dave asks. You shrug - you’re not entirely sure that not garbage countries exist, when you’re being honest.

“Anywhere, since all countries are garbage as far as I can tell.”

He laughs again, “That’s a cop out, but fine, favorite animal.”

“Tardigrade.”

“What?” Dave asks, “What the fuck is a tardigrade?”

“The microscopic water bears that can survive in space and at basically any temperature.” You explain, “They can survive any pressure on earth, and temperatures from fucking hot as shit to nearly as cold as anything can possibly be.”

“Wait, are those real? Are we allowed to choose fictional animals?”

“They’re real!” You say indignantly, and pull out your phone. You stare at the search bar for a few moments, and it opens the speech to text interface. The eye-tracking on this device is pretty mediocre, because it’s a few years old at this point, but you suppose it’s good enough. You can always use the touch screen if you need to. You’re actually considering turning off the eye tracking - it’s kind of convenient, but on the other hand, the information it gives in terms of personalizing ads is terrifying.

“Tardigrade.” You say. Up opens a Wikipedia page, and you hand him the phone.

“Holy fuck they’re real.” He says, quietly, “Wow, you blew mine out of the water. I was just going to tell you about crows.”

“Well, I still want to hear about crows.” You say.

“Dude, crows are so fucking cool, you don’t have any idea. Crows use tools - they fucking make tools in the right conditions. There are crows in Israel that have learned to fish using breadcrumbs, and  there are crows in the Pacific that fucking take branches and break and bend them for their own use.They remember faces, people who have hurt them, and they communicate that. Moreover, they can communicate about things that aren’t currently there, which is actually super rare.”

“That’s really fucking cool.” You whisper.

“I know, right?” He says.

“The last one is two truths and a lie, right?” You ask.

He looks down at the sheet, “Yeah, looks like it. Do you want to start, or should I?”

“I’ll start.” You say, “Alright, 1) I am a space alien. 2) I have three parents. 3) I have two family members who could be called my aunts.”

You suppose “I have two aunts” would only be bait to someone who knew something about trolls in the first place. After all, having an aunt also implies having a grandparent, and almost no trolls on Alternia had parents. The implication, then was that you were among the “second generation” of trolls born on earth. (You don’t strictly have generations, but having adopted human familial structures meant you effectively did.) However, you were  _ way _ too young for that. Anyone who knew that wouldn’t fall for the bait, of course, so it’s poor bait, you realize.

“Two aunts.” Dave says.

“Wait, what?” You say. Wow, you were wrong about how that one was going to turn out.

“Yeah, it’s pretty obvious. You’re obviously a space alien, and I don’t know shit about how your families work, so  _ three parents _ is obvious bait, so then ‘two aunts’, which sounds perfectly reasonable, must be false.”

“Ok, but you are incorrect.” You smirk.

“Two parents?” He asks.

“No, dumbass. I was hatched here. I’m not from space, nor am I an alien.”

Dave facepalms, “Yeah, you’re right. That was good. You got me.”

“It’s actually kind of speciesist to say that I’m a space alien, you know.” You smirk. It’s true, but you also literally invited it, even played on knowing what his assumption would be to play a game, so you’re not actually offended. Still, making humans squirm about being speciesist is always pretty fun when you think they’ll take it relatively well.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m kind of an asshole sometimes.” Dave admits, and you feel kind of guilty, because he kind of was an asshole, but he looks like you’ve tripped an existing insecurity more than made fun of him for a shitty assumption about you.

“It’s fine. I baited you into making a garbage assumption on purpose.” You shrug, “I said it because I knew you were thinking it, and now you know that it’s not cool, so you learned something.”

He shrugs, “Doesn’t make it OK.”

“Remember how I said ‘Don’t make a big deal about it’ earlier?”

He nods.

“Yeah, don’t fucking do it. It’s not fun to be constantly on the defensive, it feels like fucking garbage and it makes me want to rip my gander bulbs out.”

“Yeah, OK, sorry.”

“I think it’s your turn.” You point out.

“Oh, yeah!” He laughs. Then, he pauses for a moment, and says, “Well, I suppose my normal one wouldn’t work, so 1) I have 600 subscribers on YouTube 2)I grew up with Rose and 3) I know all the lyrics to  _ My Beautiful Twisted Fantasy _ by Kanye West.”

“I…. alright, I’m tempted to go with the claim about  _ My Beautiful Twisted Fantasy _ , because that’s old as shit, but I’m going with the thing about Rose, because you’ve made the mistake of placing two completely bullshit  things around one that sounds unbullshit.”

“Damn.” He says, “Yeah, you got me. Rose and I grew up in different families - I grew up with… ‘Bro’ in Houston - he’s not actually my Bro, he’s my father, but whatever, and she grew up with Mom in Rainbow Falls.”

“Then why are you here?” You ask. He flinches.

“I do  _ not _ want to talk about that.” He says.

You nod. You’ve got your fair share of things you don’t want to talk about - if he asked you about your blood, you’d certainly refuse to answer. He looks genuinely surprised by your response, as if he was expecting you to press. The professor says to shuffle to the next person. You do.

It’s another stream of pointless bullshit, until you eventually get Rose. She is pretty psyched about your favorite animal, since she’d heard of them but didn’t know that much about them, and you learn that her favorite animal is the octopus. (“They’re wonderfully strange - it’s as if they came from another planet, but of course they didn’t.” is part of her explanation.)

Eventually, you wind up with Kanaya, which, since you’re close friends and she’s kind of your aunt, makes the icebreaker particularly pointless.

“I noticed you got in a fight earlier. Is it alright if I inquire  _ why _ ?” She asks. She sounds amused by that.

“It wasn’t a fight!” You protest.

“You seemed quite upset. Are you sure it was not a fight?”

“I mean, I kinda flipped my shit, but that’s not the same thing as a fight.” Now you’re just being defensive, because you really don’t want to have been in a fight on your first day of college.

“I suppose it does take two people to have a fight.” She agrees, “I take it he was not interested in fighting.”

“Because I was right!” You say, and wow, you’re really close to flipping your shit about having flipped your shit, and moreover, about to flip your shit at the person on whose behalf you were basically flipping your shit (after all, the lesbian non-human in the room was not you) the first time. This is a stupid, stupid cycle.

You thought she looked amused before, but now you’re sure she’s getting a kick out of this, “If you say so. I’d still like to know what  _ happened _ , though.”

“One of the girls in the back got in a fight with some homophobic douchebag, she used the word ‘dehumanizing’. I laughed but didn’t say anything because on one hand the word itself kind of assumes that we don’t matter but also I didn’t say anything because the fucking pettiest thing on earth and also the douchebag needed taking to task. Her brother apparently overheard me laughing, got pissy about it, I told him I didn’t want to talk about it then, because then the class douchebag would have something to seize on, and so he asked me during break. I think he saw Rose mouth an apology when she caught on what was happening, because apparently  _ she _ at least knew what had happened, anyway, he asked me during break and was dense about it, and I got upset. He caught on, and that was pretty much that.”

You are not making her think this is any less funny by telling her more.

Eventually, the icebreaker exercise ends, and you finally get to leave. You still have a math class after this, a precalculus class that you have every day. Luckily, it being daily also makes it blessedly short - only fifty minutes. That means you only have to go over the syllabus. You notice that you share this class with Dave, as well, which, given how many precalc and English 101 options you had, must be one hell of a coincidence.

Either way, he sits down next to you, presumably because you are a familiar face now, in a classroom full of people he’s never met before. That’s all fine and well - you’re certainly grateful to have made an acquaintance, if not yet a friend, on your first day. What’s less fine and well is the fact that he quietly talks to himself during class. Well, he mutters, at least. He doesn’t seem to be saying anything interesting, or really all that distracting, except him muttering is just generally distracting.

It’s really frustrating.

“Can you not?” You whisper.

“Huh?” Dave asks. He’s clearly not aware of it.

"You’re muttering.”

“Oh.” He says, but he honestly looks a little frustrated that you asked him not to. A defensive part of you thinks it’s fucking bullshit that he’s entitled to distract you, and you almost let the defensive part of you glare at him, but if he’s not aware that he’s doing it, then you suppose he probably has every right to be upset, since he literally  _ couldn’t _ not.

“If it’s not too much of a hassle.” You say. You still sound defensive.

“I’d like to pay attention to class, so it is kind of a hassle, and I can’t pay attention to that and the muttering, so.” He mutters.

“Fine.” You reply. You’re faintly aware that you’re kind of being a jerk, but you get like that when you’re angry.

Either way, he storms off after class and you feel even more like a jerk than you did before. You can almost hear Kankri yelling at you. Most of the time, you want to tell the Kankri voice in your head to fuck off, because mostly, he’s a self-important prick, but you’re relatively certain he wouldn’t have pissed off his maybe-could-have-been friend in the way you just did.

* * *

“Karkat?” You’re on the bus back home with Kanaya, who lives pretty close to you. You’ve been uncharacteristically glum, and it’s pretty obvious she can tell, “Are you feeling alright?”

And… you’re shouting. You hate how predictable you are, “I hate Dave Strider, and I hate myself more for hating Dave Strider, because the reason I hate Dave is because I’m a fucking waste pile and fucking pointed out ‘Oh, hey, you’re muttering’, and apparently he didn’t know he was doing it and couldn’t stop, but I was a self-righteous trash can and decided that being defensive about it afterwards was a good idea, and he fucking stormed off and didn’t talk to me, so I’m pretty sure any friendship I was developing with him is gone, and I’m pretty sure he hates me, which is fine because hating me is probably the reasonable response to me.”

Kanaya frowns, “It does sound like you made a fairly meaningful mistake, but I do think you are being overly hard on yourself; you did not know that he could not stop, and if you were distracted, asking him to stop was quite reasonable if you did not know that he could not stop. You should not have been defensive about it, but I’m quite sure if you apologize to him the next time that you see him, he will probably forgive you.”

“But he doesn’t even know me! That’s possibly the worst first impression you can possibly make!”

Kanaya sighs, “It is hard to imagine a much worse first impression, yes.”

* * *

You get home in the early afternoon. You have some review to do for math, which is almost a welcome relief from thinking about the fact that you are a total jerk. Still, there’s not really much review to do, and once you’re done with it, you’re back to where you were. Sollux still isn’t home yet - it was his first day of class, too, you have no desire to talk to Kankri (you’re pretty sure he’d find some reason to be a self-righteous prick, and you’re relatively certain you’d flip your shit), and you’re really not sure you could put up with Nepeta's antics.

You consider trying to find Dave on Facebook and send him an apology, but that’s 1) kinda creepy, 2) not particularly likely to work and 3) you tend toward stewing on hating yourself than actually acting on the things that upset you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ironically, I had this chapter open for editing when someone literally called the cops on me because I talked to myself (which, by the way, don't do. It keeps me organized, and I really like being able to be both 1) in public space and 2) organized), so I'll admit I side with Dave more as of publication day than I did a couple months ago when I first wrote that conversation.


	2. Chapter 1: ROXY: Tell her what you really think.

“Dirk!” You wave at your brother. You are taking Introduction to Linear Algebra with him this quarter. You really wish you could go further up the math series faster, but there’s no real point to it, since this is the second to last math class even offered at this college. 

You suppose if you had paid attention in class during your highschool years, you’d have better options, but you leave that in the past where it belongs. It’s not like younger Roxy’s decision to party instead of paying attention were absolutely indefensible - you learned next to nothing that you didn’t already know in classes. The only difference between now and then is that you’ve learned to pay attention to your school work and party. (You’re pretty sure that you’re not totally sober from last night’s party, actually.) You still learned most of this quarter’s material ahead, and you’ll finish the last few units on your own sometime in the next couple weeks.

“Sup.” Dirk says. He sits down at the desk next to yours, and you are immediately glad that you made sure to schedule this class with him. Dirk’s a math and tech whiz, so he won’t mind if you share snark with him, because it’s not like he could manage not to get an A in this class if he tried. Of course, he also won’t mind because you won’t be distracting him more than one day out of five. This class probably won’t have an attendance grade, so you’ll only show up when you have to turn in homework and when you have tests. Of course, you won’t be bugging him during tests, anyway, so you won’t distract him much at all.

“Not much.” 

“No hangover from last night?” He sounds like he’s teasing, but you’re relatively certain that under the teasing, he’s genuinely concerned. 

“Nah. I  _ might _ still be a little drunk, though.” You admit

“Holy  _ fucking shit _ , Rox.” He says, “It is 11:30, how the fuck are you still drunk?”

“I got a little carried away.” You say defensively, “I also stayed out really late. It  _ is _ the first day of the quarter, so it’ll be my last chance to go hard.”

Dirk rolls his eyes, “Yes, I completely believe that you will not ‘go hard’ for the rest of the quarter now.”

You sigh. You won’t snap at your brother, even if you’re starting to feel a little like everyone is out to get you.

To your surprise, Dirk sighs back, “Sorry. I was out of line.”

You know that the implication is  _ because it’s a problem and I’m not helping _ and not  _ because I was being a tightass like Jane _ , but you let that slide. It doesn’t matter if anyone else thinks it’s a problem if it’s not actually a problem, so you shrug it off, “Probs.”

Class is boring as shit, but you get the information you need. There will be a weekly quiz on Friday, and there won’t be graded homework or participation grades. All that is to say you are going to have the easiest quarter ever, at least for math.

“Hey, Dirky.” You say, as you both get up to leave, “You and Dave should come over tomorrow evening for dinner. It’d be good to see both of you, and I def won’t be showing up to this class all quarter, so we’ll have to set up out of class meetings if we want to see each other on any day except for Friday.”

“Sure, I’ll let you feed me and my little bro.” Dirk says, and he’s partly right about your motives. You know money is tight, and you want to make sure he and Dave are able to make it on the limited income Dirk has. You know your mother is paying for a small part of his classes, but Dirk refuses to accept her offer to take them in or to take money for the rest of his classes– something about being worried about being controlled again. Still, he doesn’t seem the slightest bit offended, and you’re fine if he knows that this is as much about you being worried about him as it is about anything else.

* * *

“So he’s says, ‘can you not’?” Dave says, clearly fuming about the boy in his math class, “Of course, I can’t ‘just not’, so.”

Rose frowns, “Yeah, he seems like he’s kind of a prick, honestly.”

“He seemed nice enough when we met.” Dave says, “but apparently he’s more upset about people using the word  _ dehumanizing _ than actually making life harder for his classmates.”

“Wait, what?” You ask. It seems like nobody at the table is surprised by what Dave just said, which you suppose is unsurprising, since you’re not really all that close to Dave, unlike the rest of them, “This is a story I have to hear.”

“Eh, Rose was ranting, used the word  _ dehumanizing _ , and apparently this kid thought that was kind of funny, and then I didn’t get it so he blew up at me.”

“In his defense, it was a somewhat inopportune choice of words, given who all was in the choice of words.”  She says, “Particularly because there was a gay troll woman in the class, and I imagine she would have had a right to be at least a little upset in the context.”

You  _ don’t  _ understand the context, but you  _ do _ notice that Rose is blushing, and while you may not be close to Dave, you are close to Rose, “Oooh, is she cute?” You ask.

“I have only just met her!”

“Yeah, so you don’t know if you  _ love _ her yet, but you can still say if she’s cute!” You point out. 

“Ugh, you are infuriating!” Rose replies.

“Well, there’s your answer, Rox.” Dirk chimes in, and you laugh.

Rose stews for a moment, and then, putting on a calm facade, turns to Dave, “So, Dave, how was your second day of class, since we’ve all heard about your first day?”

Dave shrugs, “I dunno. Karkat sat at the opposite end of the room from me in English and then tried to sit next to me in Math and then tried to talk to me, but I put a quick stop to that by moving as far away as I possibly could. He had the gall to look hurt about it! As for the actual classes, you know how English is-”

You can’t resist chiming in with, “Yeah, with Rose and her space alien lover!”

Rose blushes, and mutters something about you being immature, but Dave turns to you and, totally flatly, says “That’s super speciesist and I can’t believe you would say something like that. She was  _ obviously _ hatched here, making her neither an alien nor from space.”

You’re about to stutter out some apology when Rose snickers.

“Hey, just because I stole it from Karkat doesn’t make it not true.” Dave points out.

“That’s true.” Rose replies, “It’s still speciesist, even if our original source for that claim is an asshole himself.”

“I… think I’m sorry then?” You say, now thoroughly confused.

“Probably shouldn’t say anything like that if I invite her over, at least.” Rose says, with a smirk.

“Oh, are you planning on inviting her over? I can be out of the house…” You begin, with the most over the top fake sincerity you can manage. 

“That won’t be necessary.” Rose replies flatly, not even blushing any more, “Not all of us sleep with every person we can who we think is ‘cute’.”

“That’s not funny.” You reply seriously. Rose turns to Dave, probably expecting him to be laughing along, but he only shrugs.

“I suppose you are correct.” Rose says, but she looks frustrated. 

“She is.” Dirk says flatly. 

You nod, and fill your wine glass with wine for the first time that night. Well, second time, but now you’re actually drinking to get drunk and not because your mother’s wine tastes good.

“Any of you want any?” You ask.

“Nah.” Dave says flatly.

“Given the family history…” Rose says, and you bristle slightly. You know she’s, at least on the face of her remark, talking about your mother, but you also know that the dig is not accidental.

Dirk laughs, and Rose turns on him, “I see we’re only laughing at Roxy’s serious problems tonight. God forbid I take a dig at my sister’s love-life, but her drinking is totally funny.”

“Alright, none of that.” You say, “C’mon, can we pretend we’re a functional family for, like, one night?”

Rose gets up, and walks up the stairs towards her room, “Yeah, thanks for dinner, Roxy, but if we’re quoting mom word for word while drinking, I’m done. G’night.”

You frown. You wanted this to be a nice night, but your sister is obviously not having a nice night at all. Moreover, Dave and Dirk are sitting there awkwardly, not sure how to respond.

“Sorry.” You say, and you down your wine glass quickly. You’d really like to be happy right now, and the wine always helps with that, “I didn’t expect her to blow up at me about the teasing. I probably should have known better.”

Dirk shrugs, “Probably shouldn’t have offered her wine, either. You know how she feels about your mom’s drinking.” 

You glower, “It’s not like I’m  _ not _ worried about her, y’know? I’m just not being a tightass about it.”

Dirk shrugs, “Don’t draw your sister into your fights with Jane, Rox.”

“Guhhh, not you pulling the psychobabble shit, too.”

Dirk just smirks - sadly, you think, although he’s hard to read - he knows he has your number here. 

Dave looks confused, and you realize that this is the first time he’s been over for dinner. You and Rose don’t tend to fight this seriously, but you’re not able to pretend that everything is fine, either, particularly recently. He also probably knows nothing about you and Jane’s recent… difficulty.  

You sigh, “Sorry, Dave. I didn’t mean to pick a fight with Rose.”

He shrugs, “It’s cool. I’m not that bugged, because I’m cool, see?”

“Of course, Dave. But it’s cool if you  _ are _ upset, alright?”

He shrugs “If I wanted somebody to second guess every fucking word I said, I’d talk to Rose.”

You shrug, too. That’s fair enough.

* * *

gutsyGumshoe began pestering tipsyGnostalgic  
GG: Roxy, I wanted to make sure that we are still friends.  
GG: You acted like you were extremely upset at the end of our last conversation.  
GG: While I still think what you're saying ranges from exceptionally questionable to obvious hogswash, I'm quite willing to keep my opinion to myself if it allows us to keep being friends.  
TG: i don't care if u keep it to urself  
TG: i just want my besty to beliece me  
TG: *believe  
TG: that doesn't seem like to much to ask  
GG: Ugh.  
GG: What you said was total nonsense.  
TG: it's literally public information  
TG: *litteraly?  
TG: how do u spell that word  
GG: You had it right the first time.  
GG: As for it being “public information”, all I have to say is:  
GG: Oh God, not this again.  
TG: alright well  
TG: i guess that probably makes it easier to sleep at night  
TG: as the heir apparent to a human rights abusing democragic regime overthrowing monster coprorostation  
TG: *democratic *corporation  
TG: anyway new rule  
TG: i don't think im accepting gifts u buy nymore  
TG:: i don't want ur fucking blood money  
TG: and i especially don't want it fi ur going t ocontineu harvesting more  
TG: *if *to *continue  


You regret saying that instantly, because you know it's one of the ways she tries to find ways to connect with you over the distance, a connection you'll miss with your best friend and former crush (possibly your current crush: fighting with her hurts like fuck, but you're angry so it's hard to find your warmer feelings for her). Also, you know it was spiteful, and she knows you well enough to know it was spiteful, as well.

GG: Good.  
GG: Paying for stuff for you is probably indirectly funding your drinking habit anyway.  
GG: I shouldn't enable.  
TG: wow that's definitely on the 'fuck you' side of the ‘appropriate things to say’ line  
GG: You just accused me of being likely to overthrow democratic governments when I take over the company, Roxy.  
GG: Somehow, I think that's significantly worse than pointing out that a friend is an alcoholic.  
TG: u literally defended a genocide yesterday janey  
TG: that's why i logged out  
TG: because i said “TG: here's a times article about your company arming an extremist group to wipe out a town after an attack on a factory and that extremist group killing 40000 people in a regional minority enthic group. r u going to claim they're conspiracy theorists too”  
TG: *ethnic  
TG: and u said, and i fuckning qoute, “GG: The people targeted were terrorists, Roxy.”  
TG: *fucking  
TG: u fucking defended the extermination of 40,000 people becuase of one attack.  
TG: so  
TG: tbh  
TG: i want u to understand that i say this with love  
TG: and hope that when it's ur turn to run the comapny u will choose not to do horrible things  
TG: u already have justified literal. fucking. extermianation. of. populations  
TG: *extermination  
TG: ur ready to do horrible things  
TG: and tbh  
GG: Do you really think so little of me?  
TG: pls listen to me, janey  
GG: I gave you fifteen messages to talk, Rox.  
TG: im gonna finish anyway  
TG: u can keep saying whatever i guess  
GG: I will.  
TG: i am willing to sacrifice my friendship with u if it provides even a chance u will be come a better person  
TG: i hope it doesn't come to that  
GG: I'm not a bad person!  
TG: but i need u to step back  
TG: and consider the things ur saying  
GG: I’m not saying half the things you’re accusing me of saying!  
GG: I’m just saying that most of what you are saying is terrorist supporting nonsense.  
TG: terrorist su  
TG: genocide janey  
TG: genocide is evil  
TG: we agree there right  
GG: Yes, but we didn’t commit genocide.  
GG: We took a difficult action and it went poorly.  
GG: But we did nothing wrong!  
TG: when did u become so fucking calous   
TG: *callous  
TG: You know who you remind me of?  


You think about typing it, but you attach the picture instead, a picture of a boy who Jane set up a bucket trap for back when you were twelve, one of the pictures you keep on hand for when you’re feeling down.

tipsyGnostaligic has attached 11232034(6).png  
GG: That’s not a fair comparison at all, Roxy.  
TG: no ur right  
GG: Thank you!  
TG: he was 13  
GG: What, so I’m worse than a neo-nazi now?  
TG: i compared you to a bully janey  
TG: kid was a jackass but i think neonazi is overselling it  
TG: not like he tried to stab me or anythign  
TG: *anything  
GG: I don’t know, it’s hard to not see calling me a genocidal monster and then comparing me to that kid particularly....  
TG: gonna be straight with u here  
TG: if i thought u were a neo-nazi i would not talk to u  
TG: sorry ur important but not that important  
TG: i think u are a person who could and probabbly will be a really good person  
TG: *probably  
GG: And yet it’s pretty much what you just said.  
GG: I don’t think there’s any other way of reading what you just said.  
GG: You JUST said I was worse than that kid.  
TG: no  
TG: i said u sounded like him  
TG: i think u could be a good person  
GG: I still don’t think what you said was fair.  
TG: but ur in a position where u could become a really bad person too  
TG: again please take a step back here  
GG: How about you back off?  
TG: how about u start acting like a person and stop being a fuckign jerk!  
TG: *fucking  
TG: were u just defendnig me bc i was cute jane  
TG: is that why u intervened whne i was being bullied?  
TG: bc it doesn;t’ seem like you have any objection to curelty, at least.  
GG: FUCK YOU.  
GG: The people we were fighting were terrorists.  
GG: We did what we had to.  
GG: And honestly I can’t believe you’re making this about you.  
GG: They were terrorists.  
TG: they weren't all terrorists janey  
TG: exterajuditially slaguthering them is fucked anyway  
TG: not even gonna try to fix that  
TG: but most of them were civilians  
TG: there were kids janey  
gustyGumshoe has broken her laptop against the floor!  
TG: classy  
gutsyGumshoe is an idle chum!  
TG: wow im drunk off my ass and i just unironocally called someone classy.  
TG: *unironically  
TG: this may be a lowpoint in both of our lives.  
TG: side note  
TG: for when u come back  
TG: im pretty fucking pissed at u  
TG: but ur not a monster yet  
TG: and uve got until u graduate to decide that u won't ever justiefy hat kind of shit  
TG: *justify *that  
tipsyGnostalgic has ceased pestering gutsyGumshoe

You want to throw your computer against the ground, too. You don't – while your mother could probably afford a new one as well, you'd have actual consequences to pay for destroying something expensive. Jane...

You don't know why you're being so forgiving. She's the spoiled, tightass granddaughter of a multibillionare owner of a massive food and imports company with a record of doing everything from illegally smuggling historical artifacts to literal fucking genocide, and she just won't fucking admit that. 

You're worried about the kind of person that will make her. You're worried about the kind of person that it makes you that you're friends with a person like her.

“Rox, are you alright? Shit, I'm sorry for storming off I didn't mean to-” It's Rose.

“This isn't your fault.” You try to smile through your tears. You're angry at Jane, not at Rose, and you refuse to take your anger out on her, at least, not in her presence.  

“Are you sure? I know what I said was pretty cruel.”

“It's Jane.”

“I'm sorry about Jane.” She says, and something in her tone reminds you that she doesn't particularly like Jane. You want to sing her defenses, but defend what? A rich girl who is nice to you? She literally defends the murder of innocent people. She just defended a genocide to you!

“Me too.” You shrug, “I thought she might be a good person, but...”

“She's not.” Rose finishes for you, “I could have told you that.”

“But she's pretty and smart and nice!” You say.

“But you don't believe she's a good person, Roxy.” Your sister smiles warmly, “I'm not telling you not to be her friend, or even to not ask her out or stop being her fuck buddy-”

“I'm not her fuck buddy.”

“Tell the 13 year old me that walked in on you two that.”

“It was like, a one week thing! Well, maybe, a few months, but we never actually-”

“You know what?” Rose says, her hand holding her head as if she is facepalming consistently, “I don't care. All I'm saying is to make sure you take care of you in all this.”

You frown, “Thanks, Rose. Sorry about offering you wine, earlier.”

“It's...” She begins, as if to say  _ it's no big deal _ , but she pauses, “No, it is definitely a big deal. I forgive you, please don't do that again. I'm sorry for making a joke about your sex life.”

You shrug, “Hardly the worst thing that has been said to me tonight.”

“What did she say.” Rose says, although her tone is flat, like it's not a question but a threat of some kind. 

“I started it.” You defend.

“Fine. If you feel an obligation to give me context, what did you say, and then what did she say?”

“Lemme see if I can go find that.” You say, and scroll up, “Me: New rule, I don't think I'm accepting gifts you buy anymore. I don't want your fucking blood money, and I especially don't want it if you are going to continue to harvest more. She replied that her spending money on me was indirectly enabling my drinking or some shit.” 

You say “some shit” because even acknowledging what she said would be lending legitimacy to the idea that you are an alcoholic, a thing you have denied to your friends many times over. They seem absolutely convinced, though. 

You can stop any time. God, that's fucking cliche, but it's true! You can! You have even stopped for a couple days, just to prove you can. You've never managed to stop for longer than that, but it's all the missed possible socialization, not addiction, driving you back.

“Alright, yeah, you two were really mean to each other. Holy shit, Roxy, why did you say something like that?”

“She defended a literal genocide that happened because of her grandma's company. 40,000 people died! The company provided weapons to an extremist group after a small attack on one of their processing facilities for the purpose of punishing a small town after an attack on one of their factories, and that group used those weapons to kill a whole lot more people, and she tried to sell me that they were all terrorists.”

“And you're still friends with her?”

You shrug, “I'm not sure I am any more. That might have been the end of our friendship.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting a writing blog! You can find it here: https://eamwritesfiction.tumblr.com/. Also, I live for praise, so if you have nice things to say about my writing, I'd love to hear them. :P


	3. Chapter 2: Rose: Listen // Karkat: Be bad at math

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long. Had two national debate tournaments with two different partners, added a scene that just wasn't in the first-complete-draft at all, started a new quarter, had a minor breakdown (Still not really sure what's up with that, because lmfao I have no time), and I'm taking two 400 level English courses (and one 400 level sociology course) this quarter, so I've had less time than I expected. Plus, my editor is also a super busy person, which leaves me grateful that ze finds time for my work at all!

English 101 has turned into your favorite class. Not because of the professor – his choice in subject matter alternates between shallow and preachy, neither of which you have a taste for. Nor, obviously, is it the subject matter. Rather, the company is excellent. Dave is... well, he's kind of annoying, but you're one of three people on Earth who gets to call him that. After all, he's the youngest of the four of you - you and he were only born seven minutes apart, but you were born first. However, you'd almost certainly take offense to anyone else calling him that because almost no one else has ever meant “annoying” lovingly. 

You manage to upset yourself slightly at the thought, but you bounce back as your other reason for loving the class walks into the room. Practically glides, actually, she's just that graceful. You are enamoured with her. She's clever, kind, and... you feel like you could start humming one of Roxy’s poppy love songs, which is infuriating, you don't like pop, you’re not terribly fond of most love songs, and the whole thing conflicts  _ entirely _ with your aesthetic. 

You still really like being around her, even if she does make you break with your aesthetic. Also, more seriously, she's nice, even though she likes Karkat Vantas. He was really, genuinely unkind to your brother, and not only that, but he was unkind to Dave specifically when he was trying to break out of his shell and be more social after leaving a place where he felt like he couldn't have any friends because his guardian would be a danger to them. Overall, Karkat Vantas? More like Karkat Vant-asshole.  
  
You mentally note that that was not your finest work. In your defense, you are being partly distracted by a very pretty young troll woman walking towards you. 

Either way, Kanaya says that he's a good kid, just a little awkward with people and somewhat defensive from years of bullying. She's also told you to pass on an apology from Karkat, but you told her that he can tell Dave himself if he feels that bad. Kanaya says he tried, but Dave reports no such thing.

She sits down next to you today, and you feel your heart pound in your chest, before she speaks.

“Rose, I know you have said no before, but I really  _ must _ ask you for a favor.”

“Is it telling Dave that Karkat is sorry?” You say, unamused.

“Yes.” She responds, looking slightly put off by your tone, as she knows it means you'll say no.

“Tell Karkat that he can apologize himself.” You cross your arms.

“Karkat has tried TWICE in _two_ _days_ to apologize to Dave! He tries to sit next to Dave and Dave just walks off. Karkat is despondent, Rose. I'm asking you to apologize because I know that Dave will see me as Karkat's friend first, and might avoid me as well.”

“Dave is despondent, Kanaya.” You reply.

“Hey, you know how to maybe, possibly make that better, Rose?” She sounds unamused.

“How?” You have a strong feeling you know what she's going to say.

“Tell your brother that Karkat is sorry.” She smiles slightly as she says it. That's good, she doesn't hate you for being stubborn.

You shrug, and take out your phone.

tentacleTherapist has begun pestering turntechGodhead  
TT: Kanaya wants me to let you know that Karkat says he's sorry.  
TG: he could tell me that to his face  
TT: Kanaya says that he has tried, twice, in math.  
TG: bullshit

“He says 'bullshit' to 'Karkat tried to tell him.” You say.

You hear Karkat's phone ping, and then Kanaya's phone ping, and then Kanaya says “Karkat says “definitely FUCKING not bullshit, but since he won't fucking listen for ten fucking seconds, I get how he could get that impression.”

“Is this...” You pause, “Are we playing telephone?”

“Yes.” Kanaya replies. She looks how you feel:  _ infuriated. _

TT: Alright, so.  
TT: Will you run away if Karkat talks to you in math today?  
TG: uh lemme think for a moment  
TG: yes  
TT: Well  
TT: I have delivered an apology from Karkat Vantas.  
TT: You can do with that what you will  
TT: I'll admit, I'm much less sympathetic now.  
TG: why?  
TT: Because he did try to apologize to you  
TT: Twice.  
TG: how was i supposed to know that?  
TT: Well, you know it now.  
TG: maybe i don't want to forgive him  
TT: Maybe that's super petty.  
TG: as petty as snickering at “dehumanizing”?  
TT: Dave. I will turn my phone so the troll lesbian in the class can see that you think it was petty to point out that what I said was derealizing towards her.  
TG: humiliate me?  
TG: you wouldn't  
TT: ...  
TT: True. I like her, and wouldn't want to deliver an insult to her face.  
TG: yes you liiiiike her  
TT: I will fucking strangle you, Dave Strider.  
TG: bro already tried  
TT: I can strangle him afterwards, if you like.  
TT: Although a more painful death might be fitting for him.  
TG: rose i know you disagree with me about what to do about karkat  
TG: but we're cool right?  
TT: Of course.  
TT: You're an idiot  
TT: But you're entitled to be an idiot.  
TG: cool

“Sorry, Kanaya. He's being a little shit.” You say.

“Who, Karkat? What has he done this time?” Kanaya asks.

“No, Dave.”

“Ah.” Kanaya says.

“Sorry I didn't agree sooner,”

She shrugs, “I understand. He made a terrible first impression on your brother.”

“Well, tell him I'm sorry my brother is being like this.”

“Tell him yourself, Rose.” Kanaya smiles as she says it, “Being a telephone is exhausting.”

“I literally don't know your brother.” You say.

Kanaya laughs, “He is not my brother, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yes. He is my nephew.”

“There are trolls with nephews?” You ask, surprised.

“Well, not normally one's that are his age.” She admits.

“Then why is he your nephew? Is there some human extended family oddity to blame for this?”

“No.” She smirks, “Do you know who The Signless is?”

Rose nods, “Yes. He's a would-be revolutionary leader, an exile, an American experimental subject, and one of the plaintiffs in  _ The Psiionic vs The Department of Homeland Security.” _

“He is Karkat's father.”

“What does that have to do with being Karkat's aunt? Also, You do  _ not  _ look old enough to be The Signless's sister – nor do I understand how a troll hatched on Alternia could possibly have a sister.”

“Do you know the Dolorosa is?” She presses.

“No.” You admit. 

“Then let me tell you a story.” She smirks and fuck that is unreasonably hot and it sends shivers down your spine, “Once upon a time, there was a mutant. He was hatched on a hostile planet, one where his kind was looked down on, and, unless their mutation was exploitable,” She pinches a thumb and a forefinger together, and wow, she could pinch you like that, “snuffed out.”

You nod – you are genuinely listening, despite all the places your mind is going that you really wish it wouldn't. Plus, there's something kind of arousal killing about discussions of the slaughter of innocent people. Still, you can't deny that there's something enticing about her current storytelling stance, even if right now you momentarily have control of where your mind is going because of the particular subject matter.

You think it's the quality her voice has, the degree to which she's barely just about a whisper, somewhat conspiratorial. It could just be that you really, really like the storytelling thing she's doing – you've always loved knowledge, and a cute girl telling you things you don't know? That's kind of hot all by itself. You think she might know she was getting to you, from the smirk on her face. She continues, 

“Well, as you know, every grub needs a luscus. Without a parent, all grubs are certain to die, and this grub was a mutant of a deeply unexploitable nature. He had no great psionics anyone could notice, except a vague memory of a world before, something that would only make him more of an outcast.” You're drawn into the story now, which is nice – no more gutter brain, and she's not smirking anymore: she's consumed by the telling of the story, too, “No luscus would take him. This was, of course, a death sentence. But, a jadeblood in the brooding caverns took note of him. She, having watched thousands of grubs die in the caverns, decided that this was the day she would take no more. This grub, who no luscus would take, she would take. She raised him as her child, abandoning her duty. There are those who say that she, the Dolorosa, was her son, the Signless's, first disciple. But I would say that it was the other way around, that the woman who taught the Signless to rise up, to do what was right even when it was inconvenient, even when it was dangerous, was the Dolorosa.

Many years later, when the rebellion failed, she was at his side on the same light transport that he was on. She took a grub from the first generation of grubs here on earth, and named her Porrim, after herself. Three years later, when the mother grub laid eggs again, she took another grub. She named that jadeblood 'Kanaya.' And that is the story of yours truly, and how I became the sister of a revolutionary hero.”

She's a hell of a storyteller, and as a result, you've both missed the first five minutes of class. 

“That's a hell of a story.” You say.

“Sollux has the best story, in my opinion.” She smirks, “Because he gets to tell of the Signless's rebellion, suing the US government for the rights to first be treated as people and then to be recognized as refugees, and he gets to tell the story of Psi getting turned into a spaceship, how he was broken free, and how he allowed the refugees to escape by becoming a spaceship willingly once more.” 

“Become a spaceship?” You ask.

Kanaya shrugs, “fucked up Alternia stuff. You can ask Sollux to tell you the story if you'd like some time – I don't think that any of the children of the revolutionaries aren't psyched to tell the exciting and not torture related parts of that story, and Sollux has decided that superluminal space chases are exciting enough to tell, even if they involve a degree of torture.”

You note that, while having a girl tell you all about something you know nothing about is hot, hearing a girl say the word 'superluminal' as if it is nothing is hotter still.

“Wait, does that mean that the Signless raised Karkat?”

“Yes."

“How is the Singless's kid enough of an asshole that if I say 'he's being a little shit again' you assume I mean Karkat?”

“He's generally not, actually.” She frowns, “I think part of the reason he's so desperate to apologize is that he doesn't want to disappoint Dad, even in things Dad never needs to know about.”

“Hey, one moment, I want to check to see if it's OK if I share something.”

TT: Hey, can I tell Kanaya about Bro?  
TG: fuck  
TG: no  
TG: fuck fucking no  
TG: Holy fucking shit fuck fucking no.  
TG: Don't use my secrets to get in other people's pants rose  
TT: it would have helped explain something you did  
TT: if you don't want me to talk about it, all you needed to say was no.  
TG: don't know why i thought “trying to get in a girl's pants” and not “psychobabble bullshit”  
TG: still no but just “fuck no” and not “holy fucking shit fuck no”  
TT: Understood.  
TG: also pay attention to class and not your girlfriend  
TT: She's not my girlfriend!  
TG: i see the way you are looking at her  
TG: i see the way she is looking at you  
TG: if you haven't boned her by the end of the week i will be seriously confused as to how my twin has so little game  
TT: I am almost certain that you have never had sex in your life, Dave Strider.  
TG: low blow  
TG: but fine  
TG: you win this round  
TT: anyway, gotta get back to my conversation with Kanaya  
TG: that's  
TG: not what you should be doing  
TG: but ok  


“Sources say 'fuck no, fuck fucking no, holy fucking shit fuck fucking no' to my request to share a family secret with you, so... I'll just say that family seems to be a powerful motivator in all this.” you say, gesturing at Dave and Karkat.

“That sounds to be about correct.” Kanaya says. God, even the stilted way she says things is cute.

* * *

You're on the first of the two buses you take home – the first one takes you to the town your from, and the second one takes you a couple blocks from your house. Dave will get off this bus at the same stop you will, but he'll start walking home instead of catching a second bus.

“So, what psychobabble did you want to feed to Kanaya?” Dave asks, “about me, I mean.”

“I don't even think 'Dave has spent a lifetime very lonely because he was terrified his father might kill him and whatever friends he made if one of his friends reported him to CPS so he didn't make any close friends in real life' is psychobabble, Dave. I think it's just a true fact about Dave Strider, and I don't think 'that means that Karkat being mean to Dave when he was trying to reach out seriously hurt Dave' is particularly questionable, either.”

Dave shrugs, “I guess that's not totally wrong. It's none of Kanaya's business, though.”

You nod, “That's perfectly fair. It was just topically relevant – she was telling me something about Karkat and why what had happened had upset him so much.”

“So this  _ was _ about using my secrets to get in a cute girl's pants.” He says, but he smirks, like he's making fun of you more than being upset.

“I don't see how that follows.” You say.

“Simple. She tells you something, you want something to tell her in return – it's a trustbuilding thing. You didn't have anything of your own that mattered then, but I did.”

“I... Wow, and you accused me of psychobabble.” You say.

“I thought 'true facts' were not psychobabble, Rose.”

You groan, and glower at Dave, who smirks.

“Why is everyone so convinced I have this massive crush on Kanaya, anyway?” You ask. 

“Because you ignored the first fifteen minutes of class to flirt with her? Because half the time you talk about her you find something to blush about?” Dave laughs, “You're  _ really _ obvious.”

“Dave, I didn't pay attention to any of my classes throughout high school. Why would I start paying attention now?”

“Rose, the reason you're at community college and not studying at Harvard or some shit is because you didn't pay attention in class in high school.” 

“No, David-”

“That's not even my name.”

“The reason I'm studying at a community college and 'not Harvard or some shit' is because in junior high school, my choices were special ed classes or insufficient accommodations.” You scowl, “I've never gotten below an 85 on participation, and that was because fifteen percent of the participation grade relied on homework.”

“Either way, Ms. Lalonde-”

“That’s a little bit weak, Dave.”

“I thought you were going to try to be a better student here, something about 'taking responsibility for your future'”

“And I thought you knew 'yes, mother, of course everything that ever goes wrong academically is my fault, mother, I can be a perfect ideal student like you, mother' was an act, Dave. I'm just hoping that college is set up in a way that is more accepting of my needs as a student.”

“Rose, if you don’t even do what you’re good at, I don't think it'll matter if this is more 'accepting of your needs', and while I'm sure you pretend not to care, you're also here, so...” Dave trails off as he says it.

“Again, who is engaging in psychobabble now?”

“Again, is truth psychobabble, Rose?”

“I really don't care!” You snap.

“Then why are you  **here**?” Dave snaps back, “School isn't fun for _me_ , Rose, and I'm not bad at it. You are smart as shit and you keep failing classes. That has to be even worse, and you keep on going back. Roxy doesn't even show up to class any more, and as far as I can tell, you have the same problems. Why do you pretend that this doesn't bug you, Rose?”

“Fine, I have a crush on her.” You say. You guess that perhaps if you acknowledge the original point, Dave might drop a topic you really don't want to talk about. While having a crush on someone you've only known for a week is a little bit embarrassing, talking about your feelings about school is something you are  _ not _ comfortable with.

“I... what?” Dave says, takes a moment, and then, “Ah, Kanaya. Yeah, that was obvious even if you didn't care about school, Rose.”

You blush, “do you think she knows?”

“Are you aware that she has a crush on you?” Dave asks. You smile, both because someone thinks Kanaya might reciprocate, and because you nailed that conversational shift.

You shrug, “I can't really tell.”

“My guess is that she’s just as unaware.”

“You think she has a crush on me?” You ask, because of course you have a crush, and you're going to follow any information about your crush's feelings. Dave laughs, because even you'll admit that was somewhat over the top.

“I mean, I don't know her and I don't know trolls,” He admits, “But my best guess is fuck yes likes you a  _ lot _ . She wasted the first fifteen minutes of class talking to you, and I don't know how she feels about school, but that seems to me like a good reason to believe that she wants you. She leans in as close to you as possible, and maybe troll hearing just really sucks or something, but I think that's a 'I really like you' sign as well.”

“That's not completely unconvincing.” You reply. You don't say  _ it's not all that convincing, either _ , because that's implicit. 

“I'd even go as far as saying that it's 'quite convincing', but that's just me.” Dave smirks.

* * *

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and this math homework is absolutely not getting done.

You’ve managed to work your way through the first two problems, but the third one is inscrutable to you. Everything past that relies on the same concept. Try as you might, this isn’t getting finished tonight.

It’s due tomorrow, though. You are going to fail this stupid fucking math class, and you’re never going to be able to graduate, because you can’t fucking learn how to do fucking calculus. You almost wish you’d tested into something lower, just so you could pass that instead, since the Associate’s degree requires a certain amount of math.

You slam your fist, pencil clenched in hand, to the desk. This is pointless. You going to school is pointless. You’re so fucking stupid. You’re stupid you almost made a friend on your first day of school and you destroyed that friendship because you’re also cruel and you can see why he won’t even give you the time of day to apologize, because who would want an apology from you?

You start pacing - it’s sort of half-stomping half-pacing, so it’s distinctly audible even on your carpeted floors. You used to get in trouble when you were younger for doing this, but your parents have come to understand that the person you’re expressing anger at is yourself, and so mostly the response you’ve gotten since you were 7 sweeps old was a supportive one.

You really don’t want the attention it brings, but you also don’t want to start banging your head against the wall or anything like that, because that’s also loud, and you won’t start yelling your every thought because no one is listening and talking to yourself isn’t your thing: if it was you’d have one less problem, because you’d have understood Dave a little better and not been such a jackass.

There’s a knock on your door a couple minutes into your shitfit. You know that the only of your parents who is home is Signless, but it still could be Sollux. Or Kankri, who still lives with you all. Or Nepeta. You really hope it’s one of them. You love your father, but you really don’t want to talk to him about any of the shit in your brain, particularly, the half about what you did to Dave.

“Can I come in?” Much as you had just wished otherwise, it is Signless. 

“Yeah, sure, I guess.” You could probably tell him to fuck off, but you think he  _ might _ be able to with the math. You know he probably can’t, but his education was so piecemeal that he might be able to explain the concept to you, at least.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, and you sigh.

“Can’t figure out my stupid fucking math homework. Can you help?” 

“Probably not.” He says, with a sad smile, “But you can explain it to me and see what I remember.”

He says ‘explain it to me’, of course, because English is not his first language, and he knows almost no math that uses Arabic numerals, or really any Earth derived notation, except for basic addition and subtraction. As a result, you handing the paper to him would do nothing. Even if he  _ does _ remember any of this, it might still get marked wrong - you had that experience a few times in middle school when you asked him for help on math and got to the answers with notation that your teachers didn’t understand, and so they didn’t give you credit for showing your work.

Still, it’s better to be able to argue and eventually win back some of the points than definitely get no credit at all.

You explain what you understand, and then try desperately to explain the parts you don’t get, but he shakes his head. 

“I think you’re past the end of what I got in pirated school feeds and from the Dolorosa.”

You nod. That was about what you expected, “I’m sorry I’m too stupid to learn this.”

He looks worried for a moment, then he rests a hand on your shoulder, “It’s OK, Karkat. You’re able to learn this, and it’s alright if you can’t get it all at once. Even if you can’t do this, it’s OK.”

“It’s not!” You say, “I need this class to graduate and I’m too stupid to learn any of this and it’s fucking awful and I’m going to fail and-”

He interrupts you gently, “I don’t think that’s going to happen, but I’m very proud of you already.”

You shake your head.  _ He _ might be proud of you, but you aren’t. You  _ HAVE _ to do this. Ever since you were little, there were other trolls who treated you like you were worth less because of your blood. Sure, none of them would say it outright - they were all followers of or raised by followers of a man with your blood color, but that didn’t mean you, or warmblooded trolls in general, had made it out that well off. After all, plenty of those on top had been only tolerant of the blood equality part - they’d had other political aims on Alternia. They’d also had the advantages of better educations on Alternia. Plus, plenty of humans who’d HEARD of the hemeocaste system had decided that it seemed legitimate enough, given the life-length distinction between highbloods and lowbloods, and its humans that have the real power here.

All that means that you have something to prove here, and you can’t fail. There’s too much at stake - if you don’t do this right, you’ll be proving them right, and you can’t do that, you just can’t.

“In the shorter term…” Your father begins, still wearing his best ‘I’m being patient’ smile, “Sollux could probably help. Or Psii probably could, but he’s not home yet.”

That doesn’t resolve everything you’re frustrated about, but he’s probably right about Sollux being able to help. That’ll let you get through this homework assignment, at least, and through today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I love your feedback! Also as always, my writing blog is at https://eamwritesfiction.tumblr.com/. If you want, you could probably send me a Homestuck related prompt and if I really liked it I might write a very short piece for it! No promises, because I'm super busy, but it's certainly a possibility!


	4. Chapter 3: Jane: Eat Crow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time, but it's good to see y'all again! I should be updating once every other week for the rest of the time until this story is done, although we'll see how my beta editor is doing once zi starts hir full time job for the summer. So, uh, look forward to that!

You are Jane Crocker, and today, Tuesday, September 2, is the worst day of your life. 

The first person you ever kissed has just ended your friendship. You have spent  _ months _ trying to get over her. You have failed to get over her, even after all the brutal, awful fights. But she has ended your friendship. You're pretty sure of that at least. She called you a defender of genocide, and accused you of being ready to topple democracies when it benefits you.

You want to go back on Pesterchum to yell at her more, call her all kinds of horrible names for what she said. You want to tell her that she's wrong, that saying the things she said was wrong, that it was hurtful, unkind, and unfair.

You want to say all of that.

You just...

There were kids in the town that somebody in your company ordered the destruction of. There were kids who fell victim to the knock on effects of that decision. They were innocent. Roxy is correct about that much.The original attack had been wrong, but the response had been overzealous, destructive, cruel. You think Roxy's accusation of your company being responsible for the genocide is unfair – the chain reaction that arming the group responsible for wiping out the town in the revenge attack started wasn't really the company’s fault - not least because a company is made up of a lot of individuals, and you don’t know how far up the decision went.

The company was responsible, maybe. Perhaps it'd be more precise to say that they weren't at  _ fault _ for the genocide. What they'd done was horrible and cruel, but what Roxy had said wasn't fair, either.

Sleep does not come easily to you that night:  you are haunted by images of children dying.

* * *

Today is Saturday, September 6. and you are officially out of excuses not to contact Roxy Lalonde. She isn't in class. It's early, so she's probably only a little drunk – and she's  _ always _ drunk, so her being drunk isn't a reason not to contact her anyway, unless you never want to contact her again.

That, of course, is the real question: Are you ever going to contact Roxy again? She's called you a genocide apologist, and while you can't disagree that you sounded that way, it's still an incredibly hurtful thing to say, and yet, you will certainly have to apologize first, and she might not apologize at all. 

She has hurt you and she might think you deserved it. 

You have to be willing to accept that if you contact her. 

You log in to pesterchum, and stare at her account. For a moment, you consider confronting her in person, but you remember why you and she drifted from  _ probably about to be lovers _ to  _ close friends _ – you live nearly the full day apart. You're still tempted to book train tickets. You could get back by Monday for your classes, but...

But nothing is gained by putting this off for more than a day, and that'd be all you were doing. You'd still have to apologize first thing, or you imagine she might show you the door. The part of you that is still in love with her,  _ that _ part of you wants to buy the tickets anyway. To throw yourself at her. To submit your resignation letter, toss out the chance of actually inheriting the company, sell your too-big South Carolina house, and apologize for everything to Roxy. To go home, to where things were simple and easy, where the woman you still love is, where that love might still have a tiny chance.

There are three problems with that plan.

First, and most devastatingly, you do not know if Roxy Lalonde loves you back. You  _ never _ knew if Roxy Lalonde loved you back. Yes, she kissed you, but to Roxy kissing means something different than it means to you. You would never, ever kiss someone you didn't love. For Roxy, sex is permitted by attraction, not a part of love, and you could imagine her kissing a friend out of curiosity. Giving up your future for that would be stupid if she said no.

Second, even if she love **d** you, you don't know if she love **s** you. You are relatively certain that she will forgive you if you apologize sincerely, but to be forgiven is not to have what you have done forgotten, and defending a genocide is a good way to turn practically anyone off. You think that's particularly likely here, given her response.

Thirdly, of course, it's a dumb plan. Even if she loves you, Roxy is not a particularly safe bet as a partner, she loves easily and leaves often. That's not a diss on her – you are just different, and aware of how you are different. She has low standards for falling in love and high standards for staying, and you're the opposite. The way she loves might well be healthier, but it's not your way. 

Even for a safe bet, for a woman who loves like you and a woman who certainly loved and certainly loves you, you would not take the bet. You want a future, you want to be able to make the world a better place and, awful as some of the things your company did are, you can make it better. 

If you run, the company will continue to operate as it has. You will prevent the overthrow of fledgling democracies, prevent the mass murder of innocent civilians. Roxy Lalonde may oppose genocide ideologically, but you will do it with your body. You will love her better here than you ever could there, love her by making the things she believes in real, in ways that she would never be able to, in ways she could not stomach. 

Running would be surrendering that. Running would be a disservice to her.

But...

But you don't care if she's hurt you. You're not willing to cut her out, especially not out of pettiness about being wrong for once.

gutsyGumshoe has begun pestering tipsyGnostalgic  
GG: Roxy. 

That is an  _ awful first _ message, you acknowledge. You should have started with “I'm sorry”, or something. 

TG: im not talking to you jane  
tipsyGnostalgic has ceased pestering gutsyGumshoe.

You sigh. Now you have to decide if you're going to push this. But... you owe her the chance to forgive you, or the chance to refuse your apology. 

This time, you draft the message first.

gutsyGumshoe has begun pestering tipsyGnostalgic  
GG: Hey, I know you said you're not talking to me, and if you still feel that way at the end of the message, you are of course welcome to leave the chat, but I'd ask you hear me out. Maybe I should have begun with this, but I'm sorry. I was wrong. You were right. There were children in that town, and there were children in the places that destroyed in what happened afterwards, too. That was genocide. They were not terrorists. I was wrong. I wanted to defend a decision I made, and that decision became more stomach turning, even if I still believe it was right. It is harder to justify wanting to reform a company responsible for genocide than one responsible for other things. I have been a terrible friend, and if you want to tell me anything, I know I have been resistant to listening to you, but I want to give you a one day pass, to believe anything you tell me, no matter how unreasonable it is. 

The last bit rolls off your fingers without you really thinking about it. Maybe you want her to tell you that you should leave, that you should go, that you should come home. To have trapped yourself in such a way that you  _ must _ go home. You’re not really sure what you want her to say, but you want her to tell you _ something. _

There's a long pause on the other end. 

Then Roxy starts typing. Then she stops. Then she starts again. Then she stops. It takes her a good ten minutes to settle on something.

TG: jane 

You'd laugh if you weren't so nervous. Ten minutes later, and all she has is your name.

TG: i suppose that means as much to you as it meant to me when you said it  
TG: what you said was really really fucked up  
TG: but  
TG: if you understand that  
TG: then i'm willing to accept ur apology  
TG: and i'm touched that u want to make it up to me  
TG: as for the idea that u can reform the company  
TG: i'm really worried about u  
TG: i'm worried the company will reform u before u reform it  
TG: but if u mean it  
TG: then i'll hold you accountable  
TG: as for having a free day of believing me  
TG: that's sweet but also fuck that  
TG: just try to not treat me like i'm a serial liar  
TG: also i already told you everything  
TG: you want the truth, scroll up.  
GG: Very well.  
GG: Roxy, I promise I won't let the company corrupt me like you're worried about.  
TG: be careful with words like 'promise' jane crocker  
TG: do u really mean u promise?  
TG: or do u just mean you really intend to 

You pause for a moment. You want to say “Yes, of course, I promise.” but you don't know that you really mean that. You don't know it's a thing you  _ can _ promise, really. A promise implies a kind of absolute agency over something, and you're not sure that you have the ability to decide for certain whether you win or lose in your fight to make your company a better place.

TG: it only sorta matters  
TG: this is one that if u fuck up bad enough i will go my own way  
GG: Wow.  
GG: Is that a promise?  
TG: no its a fucking threat jane  
GG: Yes, I know that it's a threat.   
GG: But is it a promise?  
GG: I'm promising here to do the best I can to avoid being corrupted.  
GG: I'm not going to promise to succeed; that's not something I can promise.  
GG: I want to promise to try, though.  
TG: yea i promise if u fuck this up im gone  
GG: Good.  


That doesn't feel good. It feels awful, terrifying like someone threatening to rip your heart out and feed it to you. 

But it feels right. 

It feels safe on some other completely seperate level, the knowledge that no matter how monsterous the risk you're taking makes you, Roxy won't get sucked into that abyss with you.

TG: wait jane  
TG: r u trying to feel more safe in doing something dumb?  
TG: r u using me to justify being a chump?  
GG: I don't think I'm being 'a chump', Rolal.  
GG: You are very important to me, however, and this is a much more comfortable risk to take if I know that you will not be permanently dragged into my bullshit if I fuck this up.   
TG: pls don't do this to me jane  
TG: u promised u would try  
TG: and ur already planning to fail?  
GG: Think of it this way: I also just promised to trust you.  
GG: Trust is a double-edged sword: it is not merely the promise to seriously take under advisement doing as you tell me, it is the promise that I will take the things you say very seriously in every way.   
GG: You say that you think it is exceptionally likely that I will fail. I still feel an obligation to try: you've made it clear that genocide happens if I fail or fail to try.   
GG: If I am likely to fail, however, then I must consider the outcomes in which I fail.  
GG: One of the worst things that could happen, in my opinion, is that my failure will trap you with me.  
GG: That I will hurt you every day for the rest of my life in my failure, make you suffer not just in watching others suffer from my misdeeds, but to feel partly responsible for them.  
TG: u think that just because i leave that won't happen?  
TG: janey  
TG: u r my best friend  
TG: u were my first kiss  


You're tempted to probe there, to ask what the fuck she means by that. Does she love you? Is she into you? You don't probe. There is nothing to gain by knowing that she loves you, nothing to gain by knowing she's into you. Even if you knew she'd take you, you have higher obligations than the girl you love, and you'll fill those higher obligations instead of running after someone you like.

All knowing the truth can do is hurt. Still, the words bring warmth to your chest, as well as new knowledge to your mind – you were Roxy's  _ first _ . She may have kissed a hundred since, but she will have kissed you before any other for the rest of her life. 

TG: u r so fucking improtant to me  
TG: *important  
TG: i would fucking die for u janey  
TG: u think it wouldn't rip my heart out to cut u out of my life?  
TG: it's not that i will avoid being hurt if u fuck this up jane  
TG: i just refuse to support a monster  
TG: and if u fuck this up u will be a monster  
GG: I'm very sorry to do this to you, Rolal.  
TG: butr u'll do it anyway  
TG: *but  
GG: Yes, absolutely.  
GG: It's the right thing to do.  
TG: i hope ur right  
GG: Even if you're right, I'm not wrong, Rolal.  
GG: if this position will corrupt anyone, then it would corrupt another person just as readily as it would corrupt me.   
TG: yeah but i care about u janey  
TG: i don't care about some rando  
TG: you are going to point out that i should care just as much about some rando  
TG: but again you are my best friend  
GG: You SHOULD care about other people.   
GG: You already know that, though.  
TG: janey  
TG: just promise me you'll try your best ok  
GG: I've already said it, but I'm more than happy to say it again.  
GG: I promise to do my best to remain a person who makes good decisions.  
GG: I promise to use the position of authority I have inherited to make things better and not worse.  
GG: I promise to decrease harm, to free others from persecution, to end a particular kind of evil.  
TG: thanks  
TG: <3 good luck janey  


You have no idea what the heart means. Is this a romantic thing? A friendly thing? It's almost certainly just a friendly thing, but god, you wish it meant something romantic. You wish she was telling you that she loved you like a lover, not like a best friend.

GG: Thanks, Roxy! <3

You send a heart back, though. No matter what her reasoning is, you want her to know that you feel the same. If she means that you are important to her, well, she's important to you. If she means that you're her best friend and to remove you from her life would be to rip out a part of her heart, you mean that. If she means that she loves you, and wants to kiss you and hold you close to her, to fall asleep by your side at night, to be the kind of girl who might someday get married to you in the impossible world where you get a chance at each other, you mean that, too. You unreservedly <3 Roxy Lalonde

* * *

Today is Saturday, which means you have on the job training in the early afternoon. Today starts with a few relatively boring meetings - one involves a half hour long disagreement about a single budget line– you approve the production of a new line of mixing spoons that will also have the ability to read recipes out loud to a customer, as well as the ability to download more recipes for money. This is part of a broader scheme to create a microtransactions model for recipes, something you think is annoying, but you can't really fault the company for doing it. It means you have the ability to produce cool things, like a spoon that knows recipes, and it means you have money for your moonshot products.

Like the tiara that works on brain-waves. Obviously, you won't be producing the first such computer – on some level, the technology is decades old, but you intend to produce something that will respond more directly – to be able to interpret intent out of the mind, and turn that into computer data. In the future, people will not be limited by their talking or typing speed. They will be able to use computers perfectly hands free – even more so than the speculative powers of eye-tracking technology, which some devices use to decent effect already. It will make the keyboard obsolete - it will completely change how people and computers interact.

The company wants to make it because it would be able to corner the market and make a transition to hardware and software, which, with increasing automation, is well on its way to being the most important economic space. You want it for other reasons.

Such a computer could aid those who could not speak – it can read minds, after all. It could allow instantaneous communication. It could allow for incredible, near perfect virtual reality – no longer will virtual reality users be forced to use non-intuitive eye tracking software or immersion breaking controllers. As a result, it could be used to make the world so much smaller and bigger simultaneously – perfect VR would allow like-real interactions. Any person could feel like they were in a room with any other person, could interact like they were actually present.

Plus, If you’re being totally honest, you’re thinking of Roxy when you envision how that might be used.

You are incredibly excited about the idea that your company could build a computer that could read minds. You think it'll be the greatest thing since sliced bread, maybe even greater than sliced bread. 

You wish Roxy could hear that metaphor, but you're pretty sure if you explained the context she'd find a way to talk shit about the computer the company is working on. Actually, you can hear it now.  _ Jane _ you imagine her saying  _ consider what that kind of computer could do in evil hands. Consider the potential for psychological manipulation, the potential for its use on  human test subjects. _

Luckily, the Roxy in your head is not the real Roxy. Otherwise, you'd have promised to take her seriously, and you're not sure you could deal with having to seriously consider what the Roxy in your head just suggested. Besides, the Roxy in your head doesn't have the real Roxy's passion for technology. While you suspect that the real Roxy would probably be more disturbed than hopeful about what your company is developing, you want to be able to tell her  _ think of what  _ **_you_ ** _ could do with something like that, Roxy. _

Of course, you're not sure that would work on the real Roxy, because she doesn't think nearly as highly of herself as you do, and she might well tell you that the moral hazard would be too great for her.

You remind yourself that you will be at the head of the project. You can stop anything too terrible from happening, and your phone can basically read your mind, anyway, if it knows where your eyes are and tracks that. You won’t be letting anything too horrible out into the world. 

* * *

Your next meeting that day is between you and the temporary supervisors appointed by the will. You've made a promise to yourself for this meeting: You're going to try to achieve something beneficial. You are aware that you won't immediately be able to end the company's most troubling policies (your political position is too fraught, and your authority at this point is almost entirely advisory), but you might be able to make some small change, and perhaps if you're smart about it, you can start working to centralize authority to a degree.

Today, however, you don't have any complex political machinations ready – just a goodwill gesture on your promise to do everything you can to do right by others. The first half an hour of the meeting is boring, although you keep diligent notes. It's an overview of what has happened in the last month - there are several times when people pipe in to ask questions about other departments (a couple of them particularly pointed), and at least one squabble about finances. You notice there's no mention to the NYT article about last years decision to arm the extremists, nor did you receive such a briefing when the original decision was made.

“Thank you.” You say at the end of the briefing, and then, “I noticed that something I'd consider relatively important was omitted from the briefing. How are we handling the recent PR disaster regarding the New York Times article, and how will we prevent corporate assets from being misused in such a manner moving forward?”

There are a few exchanged glances of surprise, and you wonder if they think you're stupid. You feel your cheeks flush slightly: you're definitely not stupid, but easily manipulated? That's something you probably can't compellingly argue against. The head of the committee finally speaks, 

“What article?” He asks.

You glower at him, “If you really do not know the article to which I am referring, I am perfectly happy to invite your peers to vote for your removal. I am sure that someone who does not know that the company has been accused of facilitating a genocide would struggle to claim that they are doing their job adequately as the de facto head of the company.”

“That article? Well, Ma'am, it's false, so I don't think further response is required.”

“Hold on. You mean to tell me that the company has been accused of facilitating genocide and you don't think a response is required? Surely if the claim is false, we've demanded a retraction, correct? Surely we demanded that retraction on day the article was published?”

“Yes.” The chair replies.

“Have we received a response?” You ask.

“No.”

“So we've filed a libel lawsuit?” You ask. For a moment, you imagine the cornered music from Ace Attorney playing, and feel like a detective from one of your favorite novels. 

“No, of course not.” The man replies, “We're still awaiting a response.”

“If what you say is true, then I want to discuss with legal why a lawsuit hasn't been filed. If it's true that the article is false, then the legal window for a response would be much shorter than the month and a half the article has been live.” You reply.

There's a quiet laugh from the secretary taking minutes – he seems genuinely surprised by your line of questioning (does he think you're stupid? You suppose he's watched you be played like a fiddle for months now) and he seems to be the only person in the room other than you enjoying watching you take the chair apart. 

“Well, Ma'am, it's not that simple. You see, the claim in the article are false because they portrayed the action as having been taking on the official behest of the company rather than being the result of a few local branches misbehaving.” The man replies.

“Sure, sure, absolutely.” You nod. You're not sure whether or not you believe that, but you really don't care – while you'd definitely have believed those words if they were the first words out of the chairs mouth, in this context they become highly suspicious when combined with the fact that you now know they think you're easily manipulable. Still, you now have the space to ask the question you originally asked, “My question is 'what are we doing about the PR fallout, and how will we make sure that company resources aren't misused like that again?' That's relevant just as much in case some low level operative stole two hundred thousand dollars from the company and used it to buy guns as it would be if you yourself ordered the sale.”

The chair looks at the the rest of the council – the secretary has long since swallowed his smile, probably for fear of being fired. Everybody in the room looks frustrated – you can't tell if it's with him for refusing to answer your questions, or with the fact that you apparently stopped being stupid. 

“Yes, well.” The man replies, “The branch involved has all relevant staff replaced, and the board is now required to pass all budgeting and staff decision through the Charlotte main office – it will not be capable of taking any such action again. As for PR, we think the best way of handling the situation is simply to continue our usual advertising – studies show that consumers are more likely to continue considering the matter if there is a response, and any acknowledgement of fault is likely to remove any doubt in the customers mind.”

“Do we not have an obligation to apologize?” You ask.

“Will an apology bring people back from the dead?” The chair asks, “If not, why do we have an obligation to further damage our brand for no one's benefit?”

A couple other members are nodding slightly, or making other gestures that, at least to you, signal they agree with the chair. This isn’t a winning fight, and you know when to cut your losses.

“Very well.” You reply, setting your jaw. You're relatively certain you couldn't convince anyone today that a charitable venture is in anyone's best interest: today, you've done enough alienating people you need to like you – or, more precisely, think you are useful - to avoid being passed over for the company.

* * *

You make a decision that evening: you decide to start depositing your monthly allowance from the will into savings instead of checking. If things go south, you don't want to be choosing between starving (or relying on Roxy's generosity, which you might well have exhausted at that point anyway) and doing the right thing. Even if you only put away half of it, it'll only be a couple months before you could make it years on careful budgeting.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some ways these characters behave differently than they do in canon (particularly, Roxy tells Jane to scroll up) - my explanation is that they're older and behave slightly differently as a result. As always, I run on feedback :).


	5. Chapter 4: Dave: Accede

Your name is Dave Strider, and today is Sunday, September 7. You're having an awkward problem, namely, for the first time in your life, you had the opportunity to procrastinate on your homework, and so you have to do it today, but you could do it at any time, and you're having a very hard time convincing yourself to actually do it, because you could always do it later in the evening. 

You get up out of your seat – browsing memes is getting you no closer to finishing your homework, and you know that given the choice you'll just browse memes all day. You did that yesterday, after all. Maybe you just won't get your homework done today, it's a relatively small portion of your grade anyway. 

You walk over a few feet out of your room, and the few feet over to the couch in the common area. On one hand, living with Dirk means that you  _ aren't _ living with Bro. On the other hand, living with Dirk means living in the tiny space the two of you can manage to afford. You work no more than you did with Bro, or only slightly more. He'd provided room, but never much in the way of food. It was a miracle that you weren't more malnourished, honestly.

Even thinking about him has your stomach in a queasy knot, so you avoid the topic. You're half successful – a few deep breaths breaks you out of the threat of panic this time, but you are on high alert, and every sound and shadow could maybe be him. Your wits are partially with you, you know that those shadows are almost certainly not him, not unless he wants to wind up six feet under ground, but you still can't fully shake the feeling. 

A door opens.

_ It's only Dirk _ you remind yourself, but you reach for the sword you stashed under the table in front of you just in case. You don't need to draw it or even grab it, but if it's Bro behind you, you need it close at hand. You're not so confident in your skill that you think you could reach your sword when under attack, especially given that sword fights tend to be incredibly short affairs, particularly if one side is unarmed.

“It's me.” Dirk says from the doorway. You flush slightly, because the only reason he'd say that is because he knows you're scared, and you don't particularly like admitting that you get scared in the first place. It's not just that Bro was viscous about that kind of thing, it's also that men aren't supposed to get scared. You know that it's a dated idea, and you don't apply it to other people. It just feels nice, like it gives the ability to protect yourself.

And that bit of feeling nice always helps, especially when you’re most stressed. 

“Gotcha.” You say, taking your hand away from the sword. 

“That's the kind of thing you're supposed to talk to someone about.” He notes.

“ _ NOT _ happening.” You reply, too quickly. 

Dirk shrugs, “I didn't really expect anything otherwise. Have you finished your homework?”

“Nah. Without  _ him _ around” You wish you could say 'without Bro around', but you don't want to think about him, don't think about him, if he’s here he knows he’s signed his death warrant, but what if he catches you and Dirk unaware, you can’t protect yourself all the time -

“Dave?”

“Ah, sorry, got lost in thought.” You claim.

Dirk doesn't even quirk an eyebrow, but his expression somehow stills reads  _ bullshit _ . Still, he nods politely. He understands that pressing the point isn't going to accomplish anything.

“I just... I'm so used to having a tiny fucking timetable to get things done in, you know?” You say. It's true – you could only really work when Bro wasn't home, otherwise, anything that required any serious amount of focus was a good way to miss an approach and get thrown down a staircase, and getting thrown down a staircase loses all of its charm after the first time it happens to you. You're really pretty lucky that none of the times you were thrown down a staircase permanently limited your ability to accomplish day to day tasks or caused serious brain damage, although you suppose the pain is still limiting in itself. 

He nods, and shrugs, “I don't know what to tell you. You have to learn to make yourself work. You were always the best of any of us at working anyway.”

You shake your head, “You were always fine at it.”

He shrugs again, “I guess. If you want my advice, I find that telling myself I'll work on something for fifteen minutes generally helps – normally, I do most of the work before I realize that it's been longer than fifteen minutes.”

You nod, “Alright.”

You head back to your room, and you try that.

You only get five minutes of work done the first time before you get distracted, but you get a problem of the math homework done. You give yourself a ten minute break after that, and then try again. An hour later, your math homework is done. 

* * *

“So, are you going to be a jerk to Karkat today?” Rose asks sweetly, on the bus ride to campus.

“None of your business.” You reply

“So yes.” Your sister prods.

“Just shut up, Rose.”

“Do I get to be preposterously offended by you telling me to shut up? That is what this is all over, right?”

“If I get an F because I don't show up to class do I get to feel like you when you get an F?.” You ask flatly

Rose glowers at you, but you're right about this part, damn it. The difference between telling someone who isn't aware they're mumbling and has to actively focus on that to stop and telling someone who is intentionally pressing you is obvious. 

“Fine. You should still let him apologize.”

“Why?”

“Because you're being a dick. Yes, he got defensive, but he's genuinely trying to make it up to you. You don't even have to  _ forgive him _ , but I think it's more than a little fucked up to deny him the chance to apologize for what he's done. 

“Like you won't get on my case for not forgiving him.” It's your turn to be the glowering one, now, because it's Rose's turn to know she's correct.

Rose shrugs, “I'll still think your wrong, but forgiving someone is ultimately your call. Roxy is too forgiving, you're not forgiving enough – none of that is really my business. I think that refusing to allow someone the right to apologize for what they've done in a case like this is both petty and mean, perhaps even cruel.”

“Wait, hold up, who did Roxy forgive that she shouldn't have?” You ask, trying to change the subject.  

Rose smirks, and you realize the mistake you've just made – you've acknowledged a way in which Rose has power over you: knowledge you don't have, and that you want. Rose is never more dangerous when she knows something you want to know.

“Tell you what, David Strider-”

“Still not my name.”

“Still pretty funny to watch you twitch.” she smirks, “Anyway, as I was saying: You agree to listen to Karkat, I'll tell you who Roxy forgave.”

“Orrr I could just ask Roxy.”

Rose shrugs, “I suppose you could, although how you'd get that information out of her without insulting her is beyond me, since your only lead is 'forgiven someone you shouldn't have.'”

You sigh, “Man, this is fucked up. You can't just twist people's arms into doing what you think is right, Rose.”

She shrugs, “Fine, fine. Roxy forgave Jane. I think that was an unreasonable decision – Jane hurt her, and as far as I can tell, she'll just hurt her again. That information is free. You can make your own decisions on whether or not you hear out Karkat, but I want you to consider the fact that refusing to hear him out is undoubtedly hurting him. You're not obligated to forgive him, what he said was kinda shitty, although I think it would be silly not to in this case if he actually means it. That, however, is _ firmly _ your decision. I just think that allowing someone to apologize for fucking up is probably the right thing to do in this instance. If you’re not going to forgive him, you should at least say as much. If you think that makes you look like the bad guy, you should at least take responsibility for that.”

You shrug, “I'll 'consider' listening to Karkat. As for Roxy – alright, but who didn't see that coming? I mean, shit. Have you heard Roxy talk about Jane? Have you heard Jane talk about Roxy? Actually, Roxy talking about Jane is way funnier, if only because Drunk Roxy can talk for almost as long as I can, and also all versions of Roxy really want to pretend that nobody can figure out she has a crush on Jane, so..”

“Dave, you're smart-”

“I'm not!” You pipe in. Rose ignores you.

“So think for a moment: If I don't trust Jane, why am I frustrated with Roxy for forgiving her if she has a crush? Why does that worry me?”

“OK, that's obvious, but the other option is that she mopes for like a month.”

“If Jane betrays her trust, she'll be that hurt, plus she already got hurt by Jane this time.” Rose says.

“Maybe. Didn't you used to think Jane was pretty cool? I'm remember you saying only nice things about her on pesterchum up until just a couple years ago.”

Rose frowns, “I used to think she was cool, certainly. But back then, her habit of not believing Roxy was a pretty minor thing, and she wasn't part of something fundamentally evil. She had flaws, but in the way we all do, and she made Roxy happy. She seems to make Roxy MORE unhappy now, not less.”

You shrug, “I don't know if that's true. I think you're mixing the pining about distance and the actual hurt that happens sometimes.”

“Jane could get on a plane here today.”

“Yo, SC to NY isn't the midwest. Roxy could get there by train today if she really wanted to.”

“Roxy has school.”

“Jane actually turns up to her classes.” You point out.

Rose huffs, “Sure, but Roxy is also a half decent long distance friend.”

You shrug, “Maybe.”

* * *

“Dave,” You hear over your shoulder before math, “Hey, Dave.”

You try to tune out Karkat, but you can't help but remember Rose telling you that this wasn't fair. Is she right? Are you being a dick? You're not even sure if you're still upset with Karkat, you just don't trust him.

“Jesus FUCK you're a prick.” He says, slightly louder.

You shrug, “Probably.”

You say it almost out of reflex, but that’s that. You’re listening. The choice is officially made. You hear a sharp intake of breath behind you, and then, “This is officially the worst fucking way to start an apology.”

“Yep. Avoiding someone isn't the best way to start listening, either, so... Go ahead.” You turn vaguely towards him, and are immensely grateful for your sunglasses, not just because they lower the obnoxious fluorescent lights into an almost tolerable range, but also because they hide the fact that you're avoiding not only eye-contact but also looking at him altogether. This would be far too intense to handle if you were looking right at him.

“Can we, uh, can we start this over?”

“No, because then I'd be ignoring you again.”

He pauses, “Can we start this over, except you aren't ignoring me, but we pretend I didn't say something catastrophically fucking stupid?”

“Doesn't seem all that different from just continuing the conversation from here.” You say.

“Sure, OK, so, I'll just go ahead and apologize?” He asks. He seems a little confused, but you nod, and he continues, “I meant to apologize – not for asking you to be quiet the first time, I didn't know it would distract you, but for being snippy about it afterwards. I was being a fucking asshole, and I'm sorry.”

You shrug, “Apology heard. Dunno if it's accepted. You're definitely a prick, but I can put up with you, I guess.”

You know what Rose would say if she saw the way you were acting. First, she'd probably call you a jerk again (true), then, she'd probably point out that you were acting like you did when you were younger and more defensive. She'd say that was a mistake, that you had flourished so extraordinarily much as a young man and that you should continue to do so. You'd say that that's bullshit, this whole situation is bullshit, and that you were handling it the best you could. 

Karkat sighs. You can't tell if it's from relief or frustration, or, possibly, from a combination of the two. 

* * *

About halfway through the homework review, which you're broadly ignoring, your phone pings.

TT: I'm buying lunch for Kanaya and Karkat and you're invited.  
TT: Actually, it'd really help me out if you showed up.  
TG: uh  
TG: ok  
TG: this doesn't sound like “roxy is trying to feed dave”  
TG: so what happened  
TT: Are you really going to look free food in the mouth?  
TG: that was a metaphor worthy of me  
TG: also yes  
TT: I genuinely don't know what I expected.  
TT: I failed at asking Kanaya out.  
TT: Happy?  
TG: yes  
TG: that's fucking hilarious  
TG: i can see it now  
TG: “hey kanaya  
TG: wanna get food?”  
TG: sorry  
TG: “Hey, Kanaya  
TG: Would you like to get food?”  
TG: i didn't think this through  
TG: how does kanaya type?  
TG: whatever i'll just pretend she types like you for now  
TG: “I would very much like that, Rose.  
TG: Do you mean just the two of us or are you inviting friends along?”  
TG: and here my sister being roughly as smooth as sandpaper that had each grain of sand replaced with a sixteen foot long glass spike  
TG: freaks out and replies “I meant inviting Dave and Karkat, uh, unless you don't want that?” and thought   
TG: “Nailed it, now she'll have to be the one to take the risk or demonstrate she's not interested”  
TG: but kanaya responded “Of course I'd like to hang out with you and Dave and Karkat!” which of course undermines your dumbass plan completely.  
TT: That's certainly an exceptionally remarkable story you just told.  
TT: That Said She Types Like This.  
TT: No Punctuation Except Periods And She Starts Every Word With A Capital Letter.  
TT: I Found This Quite Annoying At First But Now I Just Associate It With Her And All The Nice Things She's Typed To Me.  
TG: firstly i didn't need to think about the things you've been texting with kanaya  
TG: secondly if you want i can recap kanaya's part in that format if you like.  
TT: Firstly, gross, we're not even dating yet; we're definitely not sexting.  
TT: Secondly... I'll pass.  
TT: I already feel like kind of an idiot.  
TG: you kind of are an idiot  
TG: you have her pesterchum  
TG: you could probably message her now and tell her what you meant  
TT: She's already invited Karkat, so that's pretty much straight out.  
TT: I'm surprised you're not avoiding Karkat, though. 

Karkat, who has moved up to sit next to you, elbows you in the side, “Apparently, the windbag has decided to move on to new material, you might want to put away your phone.”

TG: lol  
TG: gtg  
TT: Well, that was informative.

“Thanks.” You say. You're not really sure why he's being nice to you – you're being outwardly cold to him, and he has to notice that, since he saw you being practically effusive in English last week. Plus, you've refused to forgive him, only sort of accepting his apology. The point was to make it so he had no  _ reason _ to continue interacting with you, so you could avoid the guilt of having been kind of a prick to him, he could avoid the guilt of having been a jerk to you, and you could avoid being vulnerable around someone who hurt you.

Then again, you're pretty sure plan A is fucked already – If you're getting invited to third and fourth wheel (you're not really sure which of you is third and which of you is fourth) on Kanaya and Rose's not-dates, you're pretty sure you're not going to be able to avoid him anyway. 

* * *

In retrospect, getting mediocre vegetarian pizza with your sister is not worth watching her and Kanaya flirt combined with watching Rose and Karkat be chummy. The first one isn't so bad – you're even happy for her, even if you feel a little awkward being here, since you know that what your sister actually wants is the time of the girl she's sitting across from all to herself.

But watching your sister befriend someone you genuinely don't trust is really annoying. You know you're not being fair to Karkat – he was a little bit unkind to you, one time, but you really don't care.

Actually, you do know what the worst part is. It's the weird, awkward moments when Rose is flirting with Kanaya and you are left staring at Karkat, neither of you really sure what to say. Eventually, he can’t handle the pauses, and tries to fill one. 

“This is super awkward, right?” He asks, in what has to be the worst whisper you’ve ever heard. Still neither of them seem to exit their little world, so you guess it served its purpose, even if it was a laughably bad attempt at whispering. 

“It is absolutely the most awkward thing since the dude who invented sliced bread decided to make out with it.” You say. 

Karkat laughs, and then asks, “Fuck, I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me or if that’s a real thing. I’d think ‘oh, you’re obviously fucking with me’, but humans are so weird that might be a real thing, that the person who invented sliced bread made out with it.”

“It’s a metaphor.” You say, “You lose twelve coolness points for not understanding the play on ‘since sliced bread’, which puts you at -23 coolness points.”

“Fuck you.” Karkat replies, but he doesn’t seem too upset.

“Wouldn’t you like to.” You reply teasingly, and instantly regret the words. Will you always accidentally hit on people you actually dislike?

“Not really.” He says, flatly, “In fact, not at fucking all.”

You shrug, “Can we pretend I didn’t say that?”

“Only if you give me back my 23 coolness points.”

“Sure. You now merely have 0 coolness points, and I never insinuated you wanted to fuck me. We’re even.”

Rose cuts in, “No, he is merely going to pretend that you didn’t say he wanted to fuck you. I, however, am under no such obligation.”

“God damn it.” You mutter, and then, to Karkat, “Do you see the shit I put up with?”

Karkat laughs, “I’m glad she’s your sister and not mine.”   


You put on your best poker face, “Are you talking shit about my sister?”

“Save it, Strider. You were just talking shit yourself.” He replies.

You laugh, “You still lose one coolness point for talking shit about my sister. She is  _ my  _ sister after all, not yours.”

Karkat puffs up his cheeks, “Yeah, well, you have negative a hundred billion trillion fucking bullshit ass coolness points in the first place, so you’re hardly one to talk, you globefucking moron.”

Rose nods sagely, “Karkat is correct, Dave. You have negative 10^22 coolness points.”

“You’re taking  _ his _ side, Rose?” You whine, “He was  _ just _ talking shit about you?”

“He’s correct that you started it, Dave.” She smirks, “Plus, you’re my brother, I am duty bound to take every chance to get the highground over you.”

You roll your eyes, “I am also scared that you knew that one hundred billion trillion was 10^22. That’s some spooky shit, Rose.”   


She laughs, and pats your head condescendingly, then returns to talking to Kanaya.

“She’s fucking terrifying.” You say to Karkat.

“Are you talking shit about my aunt’s girlfriend?” He grins. You see Kanaya twitch - and you have to admit you might have misjudged Karkat. He’s pretty funny, and apparently he knows how to tease two people in wildly different ways at the same time, which is something you’re always impressed by.

By the time that you and Karkat are forced to practically drag Rose and Kanaya away from the table, you decide you definitely misjudged him. He puts his foot in his mouth a lot, sure, but so do you. You’re still kinda pissed at him about how defensive he got, but you know that you’ve done things like that before, too. And you’re reminded that he is really, genuinely cool (even if your new score for him is -16 coolness points) - he’s both funny and clever, and you’re starting to suspect that the angry kid act is only half of his personality - that underneath that he really does care about the people around him.

You’re not sure you want to be his friend, but you’re certainly done avoiding him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I love your feedback!


	6. Chapter 5: Jane: Lose Control / Roxy: Confess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, welcome to the Good Part TM of this story - everything from here on is a part of my favorite bit of this story. I mean, I like all of this, but this is the part where I get to every chapter and I go "oh, man, I'm SUPER EXCITED ABOUT THIS ONE" for the entire rest of the story - and they only get more exciting as we go along!
> 
> BTW, you'll note that not only have the last two chapters been ahead of schedule, they've been ahead of schedule enough that I've made up a weeks worth of time! I'm feeling a lot better and my workload has dropped to a reasonable level, so I wanted to make up for a little bit of lost time - and, honestly, I wanted to get to this part of the story, because I love from here to the end of Act 1.

You are Jane Crocker, and today is Saturday, September 13th. Today, you have another briefing, one you’re not looking forward to. You know you have a meeting with the project manager on the TierraTop program, which you are almost looking forward to - it’ll be dreadfully boring, since you don’t understand any of the technical parts and the lead on the project isn’t terribly good at explaining things to people who don’t understand those technical parts, but it won’t be a political fight you’re not ready for.

Your car drives you to work, and you put together a strategy for solidifying your control on the company while it does. You sift through previous meeting minutes, personal notes, even records from various advisory board votes, in the new light that you’ve been being played, trying to figure who is and isn’t a loyal to you. A couple names spring forward as loyalists, the board chair and another member come out as obvious opponents of yours. There’s one relatively consistent swing vote - you need to either 1) soften your opposition 2) find some ability to win over the swing vote, or 3) fire a member of your opposition without alienating your allies, and replace them with a loyalist. Given that the will is clear that you can’t fire without cause, you’re relatively certain the last one is tricky, but you’d like to do all three.

This is all a little Macheavlien, even for your sensibilities, and you wonder idly what Roxy would think. On one hand, you’re trying to do the right thing, to protect people - sometimes, protecting people means centralizing power to people you trust, and sometimes you’re the only person you can trust. On the other hand… you can only imagine that Roxy would much rather keep her hands clean, and yours by extension. You suppose that’s a somewhat mean thing to think about her, but as much as you adore her, you can’t help but find her inconsistent support of your attempts to do good frustrating. 

You sigh as you prepare for the meeting, boring first, stressful later. You can handle boring.

For the first ten minutes or so, your suspicions about the meeting are largely confirmed - the project lead fails to communicate in a way you understand, and broadly gives you much more technical information than you need and much less business side answers than you need. In return, you ask what questions you can about what you understand, hoping to get some sense of understanding both of what has been said to you and the things you ACTUALLY need to understand, which is not entirely fruitless - he says a prototype should be ready in the next couple months.

Then, he says something that you do understand, and that you need to know. 

In the middle of babble about new features that you almost tune out because it is ACTUALLY COMPLETELY IRRELEVANT TO YOUR WORK, he says that “they’ve made a serious breakthrough on neural-write capabilities” and something about it lacking as much as precision as they’d like in animal trials, but thinking they were close to another breakthrough.  
  
“Wait, neural-write as in the capability to make people think things?” You ask. 

“Well… I suppose, although that seems relatively tricky. It’s really more interesting in my opinion as a way of making people have certain sensory experiences - for instance, if we can get precision to a high enough level, we could make people see something without needing a screen, or even potentially we might be able to build fully immersive VR experiences, in the sense that we could get tactile and olfactory experiences.” He replies.

“That’s… a really big deal.” You say. You’re actually mildly uncomfortable with this, given what you’ve learned about your company's tendency to misuse your existing capabilities. Still, there are all kinds of exciting possibilities, too, and so you try to put on a hopeful face. Still, it accelerates your timetable for getting shit under control - you at longest have until the launch. Then again, you’re pretty sure that it will launch after you’re done with college, which means that you really only have to hold on that long.

You’re almost certain that will be a crisis.

“Ma’am?”

“Sorry, I got momentarily distracted.” You say. That’s embarrassing, but you’re pretty sure anyone who wasn’t a hardware expert would zone out here, and you have the mild suspicion that most of those would, too. 

* * *

The meeting opens with an overview for the week. It’s at least interesting enough - you are going to be able to post good, if not quite stellar, earnings, you expect no particularly negative news, and your major projects are proceeding as planned. Once that’s over with, you have a space in the agenda to raise a matter you’ve been wanting to since the morning.

“As you are no doubt aware, it’s possible we’ve developed write-capabilities on the TierraTop. I want an ethics security document about how we’re going to use that moving forward.” You say, “I think it has an awful lot of potential, but I’m concerned about the possibility that it can be used in deeply troubling manner.

One of your opponents on the board points out that you could split the documents up, and you agree - you see no reason to pick a fight here. After that, everyone agrees. Unanimity, at least, is a little hopeful.

After that, a point of discussion comes up that was tabled four weeks ago - a move by the head of the advisory board to allow the board to meet Friday, without your presence. Those aren’t the words he used to explained it, he just said they needed to be able to handle “lower level business”. You’re not stupid, though, you can see what he means. It also would grant them the ability to move certain proposals without your go-ahead. You are pretty sure that the plan is to limit your power as much as possible, but he failed altogether last time he moved the measure - even his usual supporter refused the measure. 

This time, however, he looks like he might be agreeable. You turn to the swing member and it’s her you speak to.

“I have to oppose this.” You say, “Given recent failures to prevent major misuses of resources it seems to me that the board shouldn’t be granted oversightless powers, especially since the board is supposed to be merely oversight on me.”

You don’t have a message for her in particular, though, and you’re relatively certain that spells your downfall. Because you allowed the motion to be put on the table before, they vote on it. Two of them stand opposed. Three of them stand in favor.

* * *

Your name is Roxy Lalonde, and it’s a nice afternoon until Jane messages you. It’s not that you mind being messaged by Jane, quite the opposite, it’s that she comes to you with bad news.

GG: I am worried that you might have been right.  
TG: been right about what  
GG: Do you actually not know, or are you just trying to drag out me eating this humble pie here?  
GG: Because, on one hand, I absolutely will continue to scarf down this humble pie for as long as you want.  
GG: On the other hand, I’d really rather pass on being intentionally humiliated.  
TG: no i really don’t know  
TG: i don’t think im the kind of person who would do that anyway  
GG: You’re right. Sorry.  
GG: I’m glad you’re not, because I’m actually distraught here.  
TG: whats wrong?  
GG: I lost a particularly important battle for control of the company today.  
GG: I didn’t even realize until a week ago that they might be trying to make me a figurehead.  
GG: I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid.  


You’re not sure what to even say to that. You want to have something comforting to say, but you can’t disagree that she’s been patently naive. On the other hand, you don’t get to be a jerk about that anymore - she’s said she’s sorry, and you’ve claimed you’ll forgive her. But you warned her! You warned her about the stairs!

You don’t love that reference, actually. “Falling down all these stairs” is a little troubling, given what you understand about Bro, so finding it playing out in your head at inappropriate times is… unfortunate.

GG: Rolal?  
TG: sorry, thikning  
TG: *thinking  
TG: im really sorry to hear u are losing control  
TG: that sounds like a royal fucking pain jane  
TG: and honestly im super sorry to be right  
TG: youre going to resign then?  
GG: And pass this mess on to John?  
GG: Unlikely. Don’t get me wrong, I might if it gets sufficiently bollocksed.  
GG: But I probably won’t. I just have to deal with things, at least for now.  
TG: i adore that my besty types things like “bollocksed”  
TG: i mean that literaly  
TG: *fuck u know what i meant  
GG: Roxy, I don’t mean to be unkind.  
GG: But please tell me you are drunk and not drinking.  
GG: This is a real struggle for me and while I know I don’t have all that much right to make demands of you, I’d appreciate it if you tried to be here as much as possible for me.  
TG: i  


You stare at the wine glass by your side. You struggle a moment, but decide that you can wait a couple hours to get drunker. 

TG: i am now drunk  
GG: Thanks.  
GG: I mean, I wish you’d stop drinking in general, but…  
GG: I’m glad you’re willing to stop for now, at least.  
TG: i know u want me to stop drinking, janey  
TG: literally everyone knows that everyone wants me to stop dring  
TG: *drinking also wow  
GG: Anyway. Moseying along and avoiding that fight:  
GG: I don’t know what to do.  
GG: And this is miserable.  
TG: i don’t know what to tell u  
TG: but u have my mostly unconditional support  
TG: mostly unconditional because i guess being ready to leave over you becoming a terrible person no matter how beautitful a person you are now is a condition  
GG: *beautiful?  
TG: nah thats fucking hillarious im not fixing it  
TG: *hilarious  
GG: You better not be talking about my breasts, young lady!  
TG: u r younger than me janey  
TG: and u didn’t seem to mind it so much when we were younger ;)  


You realize belatedly that the last message crosses into a space that is uncomfortably… well, you’d say “uncomfortably close to flirting”, but you’re just openly hitting on her, so you quickly type out an

TG: anyway 

And then scroll up to find what you said before this devolved into a conversation about Jane’s (admittedly wonderful) breasts. She types and deletes something a few times, as if she’s not quite sure what to say, but still responds before you can. 

GG: Anyway, indeed  
GG: I’m really grateful for your support.  
GG: Even if I’m not sure I deserve it after everything I’ve put you through.  
GG: Fuck, everything that I’m still putting you through - I promised I’d make things better and then the first thing that happens is I lose a lot of my power to do that!  
GG: I feel like a tool, Roxy. 

You can’t completely disagree that she’s been a tool, but still, you want to say something to cheer her up.

TG: ilu though  
TG: so u being a tool sometimes is torelable  
TG: *tolerable 

You think “ilu” might be a little too on the nose, but you’ve told Jane you love her before and she hasn’t caught on you mean it in any way other than platonically, so you don’t see why this would work any differently. Sure, you meant it a little differently this time,  _ merely _ as the expression of your romantic feelings and not as the expression of both your romantic and platonic feelings, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve said it before.

Jane typing and retyping a reply, however, doesn’t give you warm fuzzies. Or maybe it does? Quite literally, the idea that she’d notice makes you feel really happy inside, but it also makes you exceptionally nervous.

GG: Alright, Roxy,  
GG: Not to put too fine a point on things.  
TG: that wasnt a complete sentence  
GG: Fine.  
GG: *Not to put too fine a point on things  
GG: No period.  
GG: But what does “ilu” mean here?  
TG: ilu = i love u  
GG: I know it means “i love u.”; by the way, I’m shuddering at having typed that in your god awful text speak,  
GG: What does I love you mean here?  


Now it’s your turn to type and delete, over and over again. You consider answering the question, but you’re far too nervous. The truth would be a confession. But you’re not sure that lying is any better - you don’t want to burn your bridges here, and Jane is still a woman you are in love with.

You could dodge the question altogether, answer with an ‘i don’t know’, although that might be plenty telling. Or….

TG: can we talk about this later?  
TG: i’m drunk  
TG: and this might be a big converstgation  
TG: *conversation  
TG: and it’s not one i want to have drunk  
TG: after all i think we both remember what happened before you left  
TG: and thats probably smthing we should have talked about years ago  
TG: and if we’re years overdue  
TG: then i don’t think waiting four hours will make us that much nmore overdue  
TG: *more  
GG: You’re not going to drink between now and then?  
TG: well everybody says im an alcholohic so u know u shouldn’t trust a promise from me not to drinkg  
TG: *drink *alcoholic  
GG: Rolal. Please. Serious answers here.   
GG: This is a conversation that, as you correctly point out, we have avoided for years and probably shouldn’t have.   
TG: then no promises janey  
TG: ill do my best  
TG: but…  
TG: please don’t make me say it janey  
TG: please just take ill do my best  
TG: what we’re talking about is hard enough  
GG: Yeah, OK.  
GG: Although, sometime…  
GG: Sometime, maybe you should say it.  
GG: But you already know I think that.  
TG: yeah im noping the fuck out of this conversation right now  
TG: when we come back i suppose ill have a hard conversation either way  
GG: Indeed. If you come back drunk, you know which conversation we’ll be having then.  
TG: yeah of course talk to you at 9:30  


You close your chat client, so that you don’t get greeted with what you said when you come back. You know that Jane  _ won’t  _ close her chat client until you get back, so she won’t forget that you tacticly acknowledged that you weren’t completely in control of your drinking, but you don’t even want to think about the fact that you might not be in total control of your drinking. You’re not like your mother. 

You’re… you’re really not!

The four hours that follow are absolute torture. You want to drink  _ so bad _ , because you want to take off the edge from the fear, but you aren’t allowing yourself to. You know that you’ll have to have the feelings-conversation with Jane later, but you can avoid the conversation about your drinking for now if you don’t drink. You won’t really need the drinking conversation anyway if you can keep sober when you have to. It’s not really a problem if you can still do what you need to, right?

You can hear what Rose would say if you said that, but you tune the Rose in your head out. The Rose in your head isn’t helping right now, damn it - the existence of functioning alcoholics doesn’t make it  _ easier  _ to not drink right now. What is helping is the idea that you can avoid a very, very unpleasant conversation and have one that will be at worst a long time coming and at best…

At best, she’ll love you back.

You find a distraction in a  _ Pikmin _ emulator on your computer - the game is old as balls, but it’s one of your favorites. Retro games are your thing! You know the game well enough that it’s just relaxing at this point, but that’s about what you need right now. Relaxing, distracting, and a perfect way to file away three hours. 

Which leaves you an hour left. On some level, you’re psyching yourself out now, constantly reminding yourself that she probably wouldn’t notice a sip or two. A sip or two isn’t going to hurt…

But you have literally never had a sip of wine in your life, not since you were twelve and your mother tried to convince all of you that wine tasted awful in one of her brief periods of trying to be sober. She managed it for all of eight days!

And if she can manage it for eight days, you, who are  _ NOT _ an alcoholic, can manage it for eight hours. Yeah. You’re so psyched you pick up the glass of wine from your computer table, walk out to the bathroom, and pour it out, and walk back to your room. See? Totally not an alcoholic, take that, Jane and Rose and your own doubts!

You’re not even sure what response Rose would have to that. Maybe she’d laugh, and point out that one instance of self-control does not a healthy relationship to alcohol make. (She’d sound that pretentious saying it, too). Or maybe....

Maybe she’d be proud of you.

You’d like that a lot, actually. If she were proud of you.

* * *

After that, it’s a relatively easy hour - after all, you don’t have to stop yourself from picking up a glass of wine that’s at your bedside table, but you have to stop yourself from pouring more (or pouring something harder - but since that was your third glass for the night, you’re not sure you would  _ need _ something harder to get properly wasted.) That’s a lot easier, in the grand scheme of things, and while the last five minutes or so is stressful, you make it.

tipsyGnostalgic has begun pestering gutsyGumshoe  
TG: alright  
TG: you’ll be happy to note  
TG: that im sober  
GG: Well, that’s certainly the conversation I wanted to have!  
GG: The one in which you’re sober, I mean.  
TG: if im sober the other one doesn’t need to happen.  
GG: Can we go with “Good work!” and then pretend we agree?  
TG: sure.  
GG: Excellent! So, I believe that we were going to talk about what it means when you type “ilu”.  
TG: i don’t see why my feelings have to be our starting place.  
GG: I guess that’s fair.   
GG: I kept my feelings pretty close to my chest.  
GG: That said, I still think my feelings should have been pretty obvious.  
TG: wtf?  
TG: why would you think that?  
GG: I love like lead weights, Roxy.  
GG: For me, love weighs a thousand pounds.  
GG: I’d never kiss anyone I didn’t think I might love.  
GG: I don’t fall out of love like it’s nothing, Rolal.   
GG: There’s no such thing as “kissing practice” for me.  
GG: Yes, I know I said it.  
GG: But I stick my foot in my mouth all the time!  
GG: Every kiss I can imagine giving is the real thing.   
GG: I’d never touch any girl the way I touched you if I wasn’t absolutely convinced I loved her - blast “might love her” - we were intimate, Rolal. And… And I don’t fall out of love like you do.   
GG: You’re a wildcard.  
GG: I don’t mean this as an insult - I know your family makes fun of you for how much you sleep around.  
GG: I mean, I wish you wouldn’t.  
GG: But that’s not because I’m judging you.  
GG: It’s because I want to be the one who sleeps with you.  
GG: I guess I don’t even mind that you are someone else’s.  
GG: You just aren’t mine.  
GG: I want you to be mine, Roxy.   
GG: But that makes it hard to tell how you feel. You make love easy, you love easy, you leave easy. To me, you’re a black box.   
GG: So…  
GG: So there you go.   
GG: I like you.  
GG: I LOVE you.  
GG: Now.  
GG: Your turn.  
GG: Shoot me down.  
TG: i think you fundamentally misunderstand me janey  
TG: i don’t love easy  
TG: i crush easy sure  
TG: and if someone wants to have sex with me and i want to have sex with them i do  
TG: i don’t love easy  
TG: i don’t spend hours in a room with a girl just kissing her because its “practice”  
TG: “practice kissing” is a dumb teenage excuse for making out with a gay love interest  
TG: it’s practically dated at this point  
GG: But you do love retro :B  
TG: yes!!!!  
TG: but also shhhhhhh this is a love confession janey its very impolite to interrupt  
TG: when you left i missed you like nothing else  
TG: i still miss you jane  
TG: i crush like a balloon pops  
TG: sudden explosive and momentary  
TG: i love like a shipping taking on water  
TG: gradual accelerating and with finality  
TG: and jane  
TG: i am a wreck for u  
GG: awwwwwwwww :B  
TG: i could say the same about u  
GG: but at the same time… did you just end what was a poetic confession with a pun?  
TG: yeah  
TG: but u love me like a lead weight so i won’t take it to seriously if you get upset  
GG: Oh hush.  
GG: I can love you AND think it was a terrible time for a pun.  
TG: be grateful it was a pun jane  
TG: earlier versions during the four hours i had to wait resolved on an old pop music joke  
TG: i was gonna say u were my “endgame”  
TG: that didnt work because that songs not really good  
TG: and u probably wouldn’t recognize it because it’s old as balls  
GG: If that was the other option, then yes, the pun was, sadly, a good call.  
GG: You know, this was not how I imagined this conversation going  
TG: what u didn’t see the pun coming  
GG: Not that.  
GG: I didn’t think it’d happen over pesterchum.  
GG: I thought I’d be done with college.  
GG: And you’d be done with community college, and I’d ask if you considered applying down here.  
GG: I’d tell you then, in person.  
GG: After your graduation.  
GG: Then we could be together.  
GG: But now we live forever apart, and haven’t seen each other in years.  
TG: yeah  
TG: i take it this isn’t the start of something then  
GG: What time do I have free to spend with you, Rolal?  
GG: I love you like lead weight, but I give you all the time I have.  
GG: I couldn’t demand exclusivity from you - I would be an absent lover.  
GG: Maybe after I graduate, but until then…  
GG: I don’t have time, Rox.  
GG: I’m so sorry.  
TG: well i’ll wait for you  
TG: i meant it when i said that i fall in love with finality  
GG: I’m still sorry.  
GG: I want to be the woman you deserve.  
GG: I haven’t been.  
GG: I’m still not.  
GG: I’m not sure anyone could be.  
GG: I’m sorry, I’ve been a complete idiot.  
TG: jane  
TG: im a girl who fails most of her community classes at the age of 21  
TG: ur a bigshot corporate mogul  
TG: i don’t deserve u.  
TG: even if u are kinda a tightass  
GG: I seem to recall that someone’s hands really liked my “tightass”.  
TG: le sigh  
TG: i guess now that we’re talking about that again i walked right into that  
GG: You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to say that, Rolal.  
TG: i might  
GG: Rox, I have to be up stupidly early tomorrow.   
GG: I have a meeting and then I have to do all of my homework.  
GG: Maybe tomorrow night we can talk a little more?  
TG: absolutely.  


You fall asleep to mental images of graduation day, of the girl of your dreams waiting for you after you recieve your diploma and taking your hand. You dream of getting into one of the schools that’s ten miles from where she lives, but also of her on top of you, the older girl you know now putting you in the same compromising positions she used to when she was seventeen. You dream of many permutations of things that could happen, and some of them are much risque than anything you used to do when you were younger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s worth mentioning that “endgame” is the song that helped me finish this piece, because I’d completely forgotten what the next thing in my plan was, and it was this chapter. However, even by the end of the first draft, I realized that 1) Endgame was actually a much less clever song than I thought - since I’d originally misunderstood a single lyric that made it ambiguous instead of sappy nonsense, and 2) That the joke wasn’t that good. 
> 
> So I made it a joke Roxy thought about, because I couldn’t completely kick it, and the retro nature of it made it perfect for Roxy. 
> 
> Also, as always, your feedback gives me life! It's a lot of fun to get comments, and I do my best to reply as soon as I have free time!


	7. Chapter 6: Karkat: Make a friend// Kanaya: Join a club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Jade Harley rescues an otherwise unfinishable chapter.

You are Karkat Vantas, and today is Wednesday, September 16. You’ve just walked into your English classroom, and down half the flights of stairs to your… friend? You really have no idea how to describe your relationship with Dave Strider. He hated you until not that long ago, and recently, he’s vacillated between absolutely refusing any kind of emotional vulnerability and acting like a friend. He’s a weird kid, basically, and you have no idea where you stand with him. 

“Hey, is it cool if I sit here?” You say, pointing to the seat next to Dave. He hasn’t run away from you in Math since you got dragged into the weird almost date between Kanaya and Rose, so you figure it’s probably safe to assume he’ll say yes, but you don’t really understand him at all, so it’s probably better to ask. 

“Huh?” He says, pulling out one of his headphones, and then looks up, “Yeah, sure. Go ahead.”

So you sit down. 

Dave puts his headphone back in, and keeps it in until class, at which point he takes out both headphones. He half pays attention to the lecture; if anything, you pay less. As always, the lecture is desperately boring - the professor seems to have missed the most interesting themes in the book, the ones about culture and what it means to try to build an identity between a culture of the place you were born in and the culture your parents give to you.

“This man is a fucking idiot.” You say to Dave.

“Yeah, but also why?” Dave says. 

“He’s completely missed the point of that section! He fucking uses a series of books that use cooking in some way to make a point and then totally fucking misses the point of the scene in this book! It’s about  _ culture _ !” 

“I guess. It probably makes more sense to you than me, honestly.”

“I don’t follow. You’re Jewish, right? So you have to deal with that and culture, right?”

He sighs, “Kinda. Rose is Jewish, I’m… kind of? I don’t know how to explain it. I guess it’s easier to say my parents were divorced when I was two, so I don’t wasn’t raised the same way Rose was. I never picked any of it up in terms of culture. Bro - by which I mean my guardian, was… I don’t know how to talk about this without spilling all my secrets. At the most basic level, Bro is not Jewish, and he had no particular desire to provide me any connection to my mother. Don’t get me wrong, I  _ am _ Jewish: My mother is a Jew, so I am, but I can’t say I understand having a culture that’s all that different from the society around me.”

“That all sounds like ‘cultural navigating you have to do’.” You laugh.

“Damn, you got me.” He laughs, “Still, mine has more to do with an absence of food than the presence of it.”

“What are you two talking about?” Your professor says, doing his best imitation of a highschool teacher. 

“Man, I thought I left this shit behind when I left highschool.” Dave mutters, suitably embarrassed. You, however, are  _ not  _ embarrassed.

“The book.” You snap, “The fact that you misunderstood the scene about food, particularly. It’s about navigating culture, you fuckwit, it’s not about fucking depression. The main character isn’t even depressed, which is obvious by the end of the book! She’s just sad and frustrated because she feels alienated! Fuck, it’s obvious the first time you see her if you’ve ever actually  _ TALKED TO SOMEONE WHO IS DEPRESSED _ , given that “being sad” isn’t the same thing as depression, but I guess you haven’t. I didn’t want to say anything too loudly, because it’d be impolite, but if you must know.”

The professor is adequately taken aback, and returns to lecturing, probably because he has no idea how to respond to a student who has claimed to be being polite and also just called him a fuckwit.

“Wow.” Dave says, adequately impressed.

“I’ll take my coolness points back.” You say, crossing your arms smugly.

“Minus five coolness points for making coolness points into a running joke instead of a mildly embarrassing one time thing.” Dave replies, having done the spooky thing where he wipes all of the emotion from his face.

Spooky or not, though, you laugh.

By the end of class, you’re pretty sure you’ve just made a friend.

* * *

Your name is Kanaya Maryam, and today is Friday, September 19. Your classes are over for the day, and you’ve decided that you want to meet more people at your school, so you’re joining a club. Well, that, and a cute girl invited you.

That’s only half your motivation, though! The club’s mission statement says it does activism on behalf of LGBT students, although from the language you’re relatively certain that the statement was written thirty years ago, and Rose sort of shrugged when you asked if the club did much in the way of activism. You hope it does, though: you want to carry on your family legacy of fighting the good fight.

When you arrive, you notice a few things. Firstly, you are the only troll in this room. That is somewhat unsurprising - there aren’t a lot of trolls anywhere, and you know a good portion of them. Moreover, many of your family members feel a little off in human queer spaces in general, largely because both the nature of identity and history are pretty different. Secondly, the setup looks more like a classroom than what you expected, which is… maybe hopeful?

Maybe they're doing educational work. That’s important, you decide, probably some of the important work a club can do. Yeah, absolutely. 

The first half of the meeting is set up like a lecture, although the lecture is being done by a YouTube video. You’re really glad you’re sitting next to Rose, because you’re not even a human, and this video is all about humans, and you  _ already _ know everything they’re teaching. You’re deeply confused as to why  _ this _ is what you’re spending time on - surely the people in this  _ room _ have more interesting thoughts on the topic! 

Well, the girl next to you certainly does, although she’s not saying it, and she’s not really on topic. Rather, she’s passing you notes, which you appreciate as something worthy of one of Karkat’s romcoms. 

_ I’m sorry about the first half _ . She writes,  _ I know it’s boring, but the social part is nice. _

_ It Had Better Be _ . You write back,  _ Or I Might Start Questioning Your Judgement. _

You draw an emoji with its tongue sticking out - you don’t want her to think she’s seriously upset you. She passes a note back to you,  _ Well, I know you would never go to a club meeting for me, so, you’ll have to trust me on this. _

She doesn’t feel the need to mark her sarcasm - she assumes you’ll catch it. When you were younger, that might have been a less than safe assumption - sarcasm is very much culturally human, and you spent enough time among mostly trolls as a child that you picked up on it fairly late in life. It’s safe enough assumption now, though. 

You respond in kind, however.

_ No Of Course Not. I Would Never Attend Any Event To Spend Time With A Cute Girl - It Is In Fact A Reason To Avoid Such An Event! _

You pass the note over to her, and return to pretending that you haven’t completely tuned out of a boring lecture that somehow was supposed to be a reason to attend this club. You catch out of the corner of her eye that she stifles a laugh, and maybe even blushes. That’s certainly an encouraging reaction.

_ Of course you wouldn’t, after all, a cute girl is well below your league, as you are absolutely stunning. _

It’s your turn to blush this time - you’ve never considered yourself as lacking in the language department, but as far as you’re concerned, she outshines you there like the sun outshines a distant star. You turn to her and she’s smirking - she knows she has you here and you could just kiss her.

You don’t, of course - you’d really want to ask first, and you don’t particularly want to ask in a room full of people (you suppose you could ask on the notes, actually). Moreover, while you can’t imagine a much better place full of people for a first kiss, it’s really the kind of thing that’s much more suited to a private setting. Additionally, you’re relatively certain that the facilitator would be annoyed, if happy for you, by the fact that you had stopped pretending not to ignore the video.

Instead, you write another note,  _ No Rather I Am Completely Unable To Pay Attention In The Presence Of Those Like Yourself And You Can Clearly Tell You Are Distracting Me From This Absolutely Scintillating Lecture. _

You get a note back relatively quickly,

_ I can stop if you’d like. _

Rose has your number there. Still, she hasn’t backed you into a total corner with her horseshit, you have a reparte left to you.

_ I Do Not Believe That You Could Stop Being Absolutely Gorgeous But You Are Welcome To Try I Suppose. _

She smirks - writing out another note:

_ I’d say that hypocrisy is hardly an attractive characteristic, but of course, with you, I’d somehow be lying. _

You think you got the better of that round - what she said was certainly colorful, but it was little more than “I’m rubber and you’re glue”

Actually, now that you think about it, that’s a decent basis for a response.

_ Rose You Are Obviously An Incredibly Smart Woman You Can Do Much Better Than “I’m Rubber And You’re Glue Bounces Off Me Sticks To You” No Matter How Much Prettier The Words You Put It In Are. _

She shrugs

_ Sometimes popular childhood taunts are true. For instance, you are very beautiful, and I am comparatively plain. That you have called me beautiful doesn’t change that. _

She hands you a second note at the same time - she ran out of space in the piece of paper she ripped, so you have to read it in two parts.

_ Therefore, it’s merely true that you are rubber and I am glue: the compliment bounces off me and sticks to you. _

That’s when the lights finally go up - apparently, the fifteen minute long introductory YouTube video has ended at long last. On one hand, you are excited to meet the people in the room in a manner that actually allows you to interact with them. On the other hand, you are saddened to lose the chance to continue flirting with your crush.

Rose sits down with a couple of friends - One relatively dark skinned kid with black hair and then there’s another girl who looks surprisingly like him, although somehow she looks less like your friend John Egbert from middle school - you could swear that, if he styled his hair slightly differently and his skin were a little lighter, it would have taken you a couple minutes to remember that John is your age, not somewhat older. He even has the same dorky glasses your friend wore!

“Kanaya, this is my friend Jake English. Jake, this is my friend Kanaya Maryam.”

“Your friend? Rose, you are betwixt friends, you don’t have to hide your relationship.” Jake says, still, he holds his hand out to shake. Rose blushes a bright scarlet, and you’re relatively certain that you’re bright green. 

“I’ve known her for all of two weeks!” Rose says defensively.   


“I do not understand why everyone sees us and assumes we are dating.” You say nearly at the same time Rose points out you’ve known each other for two weeks.

Jake puts both of his hands up (including the previously offered hand to shake) defensively, “I didn’t mean to upset anyone, I just assumed-”

“It’s fine.” Rose sighs, “You’re not the first person to make that assumption.”

“I’m Jade!” The other girl says, which… yeah, forgetting to introduce yourself to her was pretty embarrassing - you imagine it’s probably more embarrassing for Rose, since she was introducing people before Jake pointed out the elephant-sized crush that you have on Rose in the room. You consider momentarily that that metaphor was even more stitled than you usually sound, and you wonder if interacting with Rose’s brother is at fault for this new tendency to produce incomprehensible metaphors. 

“It is nice to meet you, Jade.” You say, with an embarrassed laugh.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Kanaya.” Jade smiles, “Rose, why didn’t you introduce me to your girlfriend?”

She sticks her tongue out at Rose, and Rose pulls on her own hair in frustration.

“Do I look like the kind of person who could ask out a beautiful girl in two weeks?” She says, her voice rising slightly.

“Ah, so she’s beautiful now!” Jake chimes in.

“ARGGGHHH!” Rose replies.

“I am amazed. I have never heard Rose Lalonde short on words before.” You say with fake seriousness, “I will be very upset with the two of you if my apparently-soon-to-be-girlfriend doesn’t regain her use of language soon.” 

“Et tu, Kanaya!” Rose says.

“Oh, her beautiful words return!” You smirk. You can feel the horseshitometer tick a point in your favor. 

“Kanaaaya!” She whines.

“You know, if you would just ask me out already-” You begin.

“Why is it my job to ask you out? Why don’t you ask me out?” She asks.

“Hey, you two wanna get lunch with me at the Indian restaurant near campus tomorrow at 8:00?” Jade asks, her eyes lighting up playfully.

“Uh, sure?” Rose says.

“I guess?” You agree. You have no idea where she’s going with this. 

“Cool, well, I have a class then, but you two should meet up.” Jade says, still smiling.

“What?” Rose asks. You’re momentarily confused before you flush bright green.

Jake tries to look disapprovingly at Jade, but he mostly fails, because it’s clear he is smothering a laugh “Jade, you can’t just set people up on dates without asking them first, that’s not fair.”

Jade smirks, “I dunno, it looks like I just did.”

* * *

You show up to the restaurant dressed casually- you’re not entirely sure that Rose will actually show, but you figure that the worst thing that could happen is she shows and you don’t, and then she thinks you’re not interested. Rose shows up five minutes late - her brother is in the driver’s seat, which is a little bit puzzling but he, well, mostly lets the car drive itself off, after a brief conversation. (You’re pretty sure you hear him say “Are you sure about this?”) Maybe they can’t afford a fully self-driving car? But still, it’s not like there’s nowhere to park.

And then you see her stumble slightly.

“Hiiiiii, Kanana!” Rose slurs. She’s dressed up - casual was the wrong call. She is also, and you’re surprised you recognize this because you haven’t spent that much time around humans on soporifics, obviously fucking smashed.

“Rose?” You ask, “Rose, are you on something?”

“Mmmaaaybe just a little? I had a drink or two? Or three?” She says.

“I… Rose? Would you like a ride back? I can get us a ride back to your house.” You say. If you didn’t know better, you’d probably have the date with her now, but you luckily know enough about humans and soporifics that this is an inauspicious start to a relationship. Is this a relationship? Is this a date? You’re not really sure. Either way, you open your phone up and press the call button for your car. You know it starts driving itself in your direction from a nearby parking lot.

“No!” She says, “I almost forgot about our date, I’m not going to miss it. Wait, shit. Is this a date, Kanana?”

You sigh, “This is not a date, Rose. If you want to go on a date, say, tomorrow, we can do that, but you are drunk, and this was arranged by a mutual friend without us talking about it, so I am thinking that this is not a thing that is happening.”

“Are you rejecting me?” She asks. She looks hurt.

“No, Rose. I am saying that this is obviously not the way to do this.” 

She looks sad, then guilty, “Thaatt’sh.. That’sh probably fair.”

Your car arrives.

“Come on then, let’s get you home.” You’re saying it as sweetly as you can - you’ll have a more serious conversation about this later when she is sober, but for now, you just want to make sure that you can end this bizarre night in a way that gives the two of you a chance to have that conversation, and for you to decide whether or not this maybe relationship is worth salvaging later. 

“Rose, can you type in your address for me?” You ask. She does into the dashboard computer, although it takes her a few tries - she’s much more than a little drunk.

“There you go.” She says, and then leans back in her seat.

The car takes you back in near silence. Once you near her house, you ask, “Would you like to try this again tomorrow? We can both dress up, and we can have it be really a date, and you can show up sober.”

She nods, “Yaeh, that sounds nice.

* * *

She shows up early the next time. She’s wearing a different dress, a relatively simple yellow and orange thing (you think it washes her out slightly, but she still looks lovely) and she’s wearing what have to be clip on earrings, since you’re certain her ears are not pierced. You actually spent a lot of last night selecting what you were going to wear, and you’re still not really sure you like what you wound up with.

She walks up this time, indicating that she didn’t need a chaperone here. 

“You look wonderful!” You say. You don’t say ‘oh, babe, please let me make your fashion decisions for you, you are gorgeous but you have awful taste in clothes.’ 

She smiles, “You’re one to talk.”

You flush - even if you’re not absolutely thrilled by your ensemble, you’re glad she likes it, at least. 

You hold the door for her and gesture for her to go in, and she giggles, apparently catching that you’re flirting with her. You’re really glad to have a sober Rose here, and really glad that this is how your first date is going, instead of however that other date would have gone.

“Table for two, please?” Rose says, and you’re guided back to a small table where you are seated across from each other. 

There’s an awkward pause, and you finally address the elephant-sized drunken Rose catastrophe from yesterday in the room. (It doesn’t work any better the second time you try to make the metaphor work, so you resolve to abandon it.)

“Rose, what happened yesterday?” You ask, “You usually seem to have fine judgement, so I’m puzzled as to why you thought that was a good idea.”

She flushes - at least it embarrasses her, but then shrugs, “I don’t know.”

“This is the kind of thing that we really should talk about. It matters quite a bit and it calls into question whether or not you’re actually interested in dating me.”   


She shrugs again, “Kanaya, I… can we forget it happened and maybe talk about it much later? I’m not sure I’m comfortable talking about what happened.”

You frown, “No, I will not be put off from this. Why were you drunk? Why did you care so little about the date that you did not show up sober?”

“Kanaya, I  _ don’t want to talk about it _ . Can’t you respect that?”

“Fine.” You say, and stand up, “But talking about it was a requirement for me to think that this date was worth showing up to. I think you’re pretty, smart and very attractive, Rose Lalonde, but I do not think anything will work between us as long as you are unwilling to communicate and are simultaneously making deeply questionable decisions.”

“Really?” Rose asks, sounding offended. That’s fine, you suppose you’re being somewhat unkind here.

You still walk away, though.


	8. Chapter 7: Jane: Surrender / Roxy: Refuse:

Your name is Jane Crocker, today is September 20, and you are really stressed about the upcoming meeting. You got the draft of the ethics document and the security document today, and you have some qualms about some of the security document, but the ethics document generally looks good. Your approval isn’t the only one that matters, though and that is a little disquieting. 

You walk into the room with your nerves steeled. You have a full page of notes on the ethics document, selecting out each of the sections you think absolutely must survive. You’ve got another half page on the back about the security document, largely sections you think must survive, although you have a couple notes on things you think probably should change, because you think they put too much trust and power in too few hands. 

You feel kind of like you are walking into battle. If this is a battle, it is likely to be a slaughter. You’ll have to hope otherwise, so that you have time to regroup and figure out what went wrong before you have to have a big fight.

The meeting begins by almost boring you to sleep - you discuss the major papers responses to your earnings release, which you’ve already read and analyzed multiple times, and frankly nobody in the room has anything much more interesting to say than what you’ve already considered. 

Eventually, you arrive on the documents. Given the limited time left, you expect either that the chair of the committee believes everyone will vote in favor or that this will be put off for a later meeting - there certainly isn’t enough time to discuss more than a couple of modifications, at most.

“I’m going to pass around the newest version of the ethics document - as everyone but Miss Crocker will know, we made some modifications” He sneers out ‘miss’, and you’re not sure if it’s a sexism thing or an age thing. Either way, you have the feeling that this has, in fact, been a slaughter, “and then I move we take a vote on it.”

“Seconded.” His favorite lackey says.

There’s a quick three-two vote on the ethics document.

You barely get a chance to turn the document over before the vote is done. 

They’ve killed at least three key sections on the front, the most notable of which is the section preventing changing the users brain state for the purpose of encouraging purchases in a way not directly similar to sensory input. That’s  _ super  _ troubling, because it means that there would be no rule against making people think things or experience things they  _ believed _ were there own internal feelings using the device. It would be allowed to just make someone think “I’d really like a cake right now”, or, fuck, those could be sold to advertisers, resulting in “Man, I should really remodel my house using that companies services.”  
  


“Excuse me.” You say, as you stumble on something still more troubling, “There was a section preventing the device from being used to intentionally condition any kind of behavior before, and it seems to be missing here. Surely this is a mistake.”

“This was intended.” He says, “The law doesn’t require such a prohibition, and given that there are potentially ethical ways of using that that could generate revenue, we felt obligated to kill that provision.”

“I don’t think there is any ethical way of doing so, at least not without the end user's explicit informed consent.” You respond, “We’re talking about intentionally modifying behavior here, right?”

“Obviously.” He says, in a condescending tone, and did he always do that, or is that new, “That’s not illegal - it’s what every advertisement does. We just have a better advertising tool.”

“The user can refuse an advertisement, though. They’re not being turned into a puppet!”

“Can they?” He says, “No, I don’t think it works that way - Oh, sure, people  _ think _ they can refuse to be influenced, but it’s not really true.”

“But this is  _ different _ .” I pointed out, “Deeply held beliefs can be overwritten- sure, an advertisement might make me buy a burger, but it isn’t going to make me go vote for a candidate I hate.”

“We haven’t changed anything about political advertisement.” He says, and that’s half true, they’ve removed the requirement of notification that something is a paid political ad, but they haven’t let political ads directly change the brain.

“Fine, but you could override someone’s vegetarianism if it improved consumption for an advertiser.”

“Isn’t it better that we encourage consumption and economic growth?” He says, “Seems to me that more money to go around is what matters most- a fed family is a happy one, after all.”

“Well, that might be your opinion, but I’m not even sure I can ethically sign off on this, which I will remind you it  _ is _ my power to do.” I said.

“Well, I understand your concerns, but you aren’t the only authority here and we’ve overridden you. You are only provisionally the head of this company, and we  _ can _ remove you. We expect the document by Saturday morning.” 

The meeting closes, and you feel sick. You don’t know what to do. You can’t say no - the question will just be put to John, and then, once John is out of the way, the head of the board will be in control. 

Your car ride home is miserable. You don’t know what to do - and, being in a car, you have relatively little in the way of distractions. You toy with your phone, but that’s not much distraction because Pesterchum is right there, and that reminds you of Roxy, and she reminds you of your dilemma. 

Roxy would be incensed if you agreed. She wouldn’t have to find out right away - the document is a company secret, but eventually she would find out, and even if she didn’t, you are old enough to know that lying to your partner is not a sustainable course of action even if the lie itself is sustainable, and you want her to be your partner: You know enough to suspect that your current relationship is itself unsustainable - that it is hard to love someone and make nothing of that when you know the other person loves you, as well.

If you told her, you are relatively certain that would be the end of your friendship, though, so really, signing off on the decision is signing the end of your friendship with Roxy. Plus, morally, you find the whole thing repugnant. You’re signing off on allowing mind control for profit if you sign off, and there’s really no two ways about that.

But…

But what does not signing off win you? 

If John is forced to do this, it still happens. If he refuses, it still happens, but then there is no one to fight the next decision. Plus, what will happen to your position? You  _ wanted _ to run the company, you’ve spent your whole life preparing to run this company, it is your  _ dream _ to be able to run this company. You only have to make it a few more months until you can claim a great deal more authority, if less than the amount you’d have been able to claim if you’d been able to consistently defend your power. 

Are you really willing to throw that away for a girl and moral high ground that won’t do anything?

**No.**

No, you are not. 

You are not willing to give up on your dreams for a girl. Well, you suppose you are giving up on a dream, particularly, the one where you and Roxy get to have a meaningful, fulfilling relationship, one that could possibly last a lifetime, if everything went right. Plus, having Roxy as your friend for life was always a dream of younger-you, one of the few such friendships that actually survived into adulthood, and you’ll lose that, too. But you have larger dreams. 

Perhaps your pursuit of those larger dreams will make you hard to love. You can accept that. Love can come later. Maybe you will never really be loved in the way you imagine. Perhaps the pursuit of status and power will cost you friendship. That’s… that’s not alright, but it’s a price you might have to accept.

The ethical question cuts you deeper, but you ultimately can’t  _ do _ anything about this. No matter what you do, this evil will come to pass. You are powerless. It would be immoral, then, to step aside, right? So then you won’t. Roxy would be wrong. You’re almost tempted to wait for it to become public, and then defend your decision to Roxy: You’re right here, damn it, and while you know what she’ll say, she’ll be wrong!

Still, you know that if you aren’t honest about it, there’s no way she’ll buy your defense, because she’ll point out that you were guilty enough to hide it from her. The only option you have is to tell her roughly what you’re doing (although not exactly: You’re under an NDA, after all), and defend that.

By the time your car reaches your driveway, you’ve made up your mind. 

gustyGumshoe has begun bothering tispyGnostalgic  
GG: So.  
tipsyGnostalgic is an idle chum!  
GG: Rox.  
GG: I…  
GG: I have to do a terrible thing.  


* * *

You are Roxy Lalonde, and you are trying to calm your sister when you phone pings, and you really, genuinely, consider ignoring it. Rose needs you right now. But you set it on the table five minutes ago, and the screen flashes on with the last message, and “GG: I have to do a terrible thing.” is maybe the message that you have been most afraid of receiving. If Rose weren’t relying on you, you’d drink before reading it, and even with Rose relying on you, you’re not sure you can tune this one out.

“Rosie, can I get five minutes to reply to that? I think things are about to go very bad with Jane.” You ask hesitantly, “I will support you if you need me  _ right now _ , but…”

Rose smiles, “No, it’s fine. I’m a big girl, Roxy, I can deal with being scared myself, for a short while, at least. I’m just nervous, that’s all. It’s not like ‘I have a date with a really cute girl’ is a bad thing, Rox.”

You nod, “Still, I’ll be back ASAP.”

You pick up your phone

The full log now reads:

gustyGumshoe has begun bothering tispyGnostalgic  
GG: So.  
tipsyGnostalgic is an idle chum!  
GG: Rox.  
GG: I…  
GG: I have to do a terrible thing.  
GG: I think it is the right thing to do.  
GG: But that doesn’t make it any less terrible.  


You pause. That’s not enough information to go on.

TG: for someone as insightful as u r jane ur being awfully unspecific  
GG: I don’t think it matters what it is I’m going to do.   
GG: It’s not the worst imaginable thing.  
GG: We’re not talking about me potentially enabling genocide here.  
GG: Most likely, nobody will die.  
TG: “most likely” is not reassuring  
GG: I mean, it’s risky but the parts of it that are risky are not the parts of it that are terrifying.  
GG: They’re super exciting! We’re blazing new technology that could massively improve people’s lives!  
GG: But the ethical standards are…  
GG: Well, the implications of them are…  
GG: Monstrous.   
GG: I can’t not sign off.   
GG: I’ll lose the job if I do, and the standards will be implemented anyway.   
GG: I’m doing it.  
TG: you know what i think  
GG: What do you think?  
TG: that wasn’t a question jane  
TG: it was a statement  
TG: you know what I think  
TG: you promised.  
GG: I promised I’d try.  
TG: “GG: Roxy, I promise I won't let the company corrupt me like you're worried about.”  
TG: that’s not an i’ll try  
GG: You asked if I meant that and I sure as hell didn’t say yes, Roxy.  
GG: Because I knew it was an impossible promise, one that implied agency I didn’t have!  
TG: doesn’t matter  
TG: this isn’t trying  
GG: I don’t have any choice!  
TG: u always have a choice jane crocker  
GG: Well, I don’t have a very good choice!  
TG: sometimes u have to make hard choices  
TG: that doesn’t absolve u of having made them jane  
TG: if this is so awful, fucking leak it  
TG: fucking tell someone  
TG: if ur out anyway  
TG: fight back  
GG: That’s not legal, Rox.  
TG: you can’t do this jane  
GG: I am resolved, Rox.  
GG: I am so, so, so sorry.  
GG: I didn’t want this to end this way.  
GG: But it does.  
GG: This is how this story ends.  
GG: Now, you made a promise to me, as well.  
GG: If, to you, this is the corruption you were worried about.  
GG: Then go.  
GG: Otherwise, back off. This is a hard decision, and I’m telling you now because if I don’t you’ll think I was being defensive and cagey.  
GG: I believe that I am choosing correctly.  


So you have to decide. 

You wish you could say it was an easy choice - Jane is clearly wrong here. But you  _ love _ her, want to be with her, want her to play a central part in your life. You have been falling in love with her for half a decade. Your ethics are important to you, but it’s hard to convince yourself that anything is more important than  _ her _ . Besides, maybe you could give yourself an easy out here.

Maybe you could say she’s right. You want her to be, you want to agree that she’s done everything she can. It's true, she probably can’t change the outcome here. Whatever terrible, awful thing she’s concerned about will probably come to pass, and she probably doesn’t have agency over that. 

But you find your resolve somewhere else in this: 

Even if it’s true she can’t change the outcome,  **that’s not enough.** You don’t buy that if she can be cowed once she can’t be cowed a hundred more times. You don’t buy that if she can be pushed over this ethical threshold, whatever it is, she can’t be pushed over any ethical threshold. 

And you don’t buy that she has done everything she can. If she believes she stands on a moral event horizon, then she has an obligation to act. She has an obligation to do everything she can. She has an obligation to fight. Even if it costs her immensely. Even if it sees her to a prison cell. You hate the notion of that happening to her, but she was the one who chose to claim she would be brave and fight for justice where it was hard. Sometimes, that means seeing those ideas to a prison cell.

You start to type out a goodbye, but if she’s obligated to risk prison for justice, then you, at least, are obligated to break your promise to a friend/loved one before you give up on it. It would be hypocritical of you to demand great courage from her that you yourself won’t show. 

TG: im sorry jane  
TG: i have to break that promise  
GG: I’m sure you’ll act like you have the moral highground here despite that.  
TG: *shrug* doesn’t matter if i have moral highground  
TG: it’d be hypocritical of me to ask u something i won’t do.  
TG: tho i don’t feel too bad  
TG: u didn’t keep ur promise  
TG: i don’t see why i’d keep mine  
TG: im becoming ur conscience since apparently u don’t have a real one  
TG: and im going to make u think about what ur planning to do until u do it  
GG: For a girl who said she loved me less than a week ago, you’ve certainly developed a negative opinion of me.  
TG: i guess that’s one way of looking at things  
GG: If that’s how you feel.  
GG: I can’t let anyone stop me, Rox.  
GG: This is right.  
GG: I cannot risk you convincing me.  
>GG: This is only until next week.  
TG: what is?  
GG: I’m so terribly sorry.  
TG: im not convinced that you are  
GG: I have to do this.  
TG: whatever it is u don’t  
GG: I imagine our friendship will not survive this.  
TG: probably  
GG: I love you.  
TG: then show me!  
GG: I’m sorry!  
\--- gutsyGumshoe has blocked tipsyGnostalgic\---  
TG: ...  
<Message not delivered>  
TG: ouch  


“Fuck!” You shout, “What the fucking fuck!”

“Roxy?” Rose asks.

“Fucking bitch… she’s doing something she thinks is wrong, apparently, won’t tell me what, and… and she’s acting like she doesn’t have a choice.” You summarize, “I’m getting a drink.”

“Roxy, I know this is a topic we aren’t supposed to discuss, but I’m seriously worried, so you’ll have to forgive me. I don’t think it would be wise to drink right now. I’m seriously worried about you in general, and right now, I’m worried that you won’t stop until you’re in a coma.” Rose says.

“Yeah, maybe it’d be better that way.” You say, grabbing a bottle of vodka from behind the bookcase.

Rose, meanwhiles, gets up, and walks into the kitchen, grabbing one of your mother’s bottles and shot glasses- Of course, she’ll notice one of her bottles is missing, but you have a hard time imagining her lecturing her kids about drinking, given how much lecturing she’s received from Rose. Besides, you’re the one who will get lectured, so she’s got no incentive not to. 

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“You’re sad. I’m scared. I’ll match you, shot for shot.” She says. You know it’s a threat. You don’t know if she’ll go through with it. Still, you 1) don’t actually want her to start drinking to avoid her fears and 2) know she has a much lower tolerance than you, so it’s a pretty effective threat.

“Ok, sis, but I could just drink straight from the bottle.” You point out, “then you wouldn’t know how much I drank.”

“I’ll estimate high.” She warns.

You pour yourself a shot. She follows, although she overestimates how much a shot is. You tip it back, and swallow. She fails to follow, she puts the shot in her mouth and gags, and spits most of it out. 

“That is fucking vile.” She mutters, but pours herself about two thirds of her previous drink, which is actually probably closer to a shot than her first measurement, if less instead of more, and, prepared this time, takes it.

You frown. 

She’s not playing around.

You take a second shot, throw it back, and then cap the bottle. 

“You win, I’ll stick to that.” You say. She still takes the second shot, apparently worried that you’ll take another if she doesn’t. You sigh, “I wish you hadn’t done that.”

“And now you know how the rest of us feel.” Rose says.

You shrug, “I feel guilty, mostly.”

She shrugs, “I don’t feel bad if it keeps you from drinking yourself into a coma.”

You sigh, “Rose, I’m going upstairs. I love you, and I hope you have a fun date, but I am about to be awful company, and I want some time alone.”

She nods, “I understand.”

You hatch a plan while crying. You’ll spend tomorrow packing, and leave in the evening. You’ll aim to arrive Monday, and you’ll show up at her fucking door. She might reject you again, that’s fine. She’s welcome to do that.

She can give up on her. You’re not going to. You’re going to fight for the woman you love, and you might have to spend an evening in a hotel or something, but you want to make her look you in the eye and tell you that she’s giving up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was my, like, 3rd favorite chapter of DMB A1. You're welcome. 
> 
> I hope you liked it, too! I know it's sad, but if you start with "a rather small part of a genocide", you have to be more intense than that in the climax. If you'd like to, I love feedback, so please leave some :)


	9. Chapter 8: Rose: Tie Things Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm a couple days late, I'm working on a bunch of other stuff right now, including drenching my own keyboard in homemade white chocolate decaf mochas. Is cool, I got a really fancy (well, mechanical, anyway) keyboard to replace it, and the new keyboard rocks.

Today is September 20, and Roxy is comforting you. You’re nervous for your date, although you think she’s also living vicariously through you to a degree: Sure, you’re shaking from the nerves, but you’re a grown up, you can handle this. But Roxy hasn’t really  _ dated _ since high school, for reasons everyone knows, and while everyone gives her shit for sleeping around, you also understand why she doesn’t date.

She couldn’t honestly tell anyone that she wouldn’t drop them at a moments notice if Jane Crocker wanted a monogamous relationship with her. So she’s living through you by comforting you, and you’re remarkably okay with that. You won’t admit it, but it’s nice. 

Her phone goes off, and she’s drawn into a conversation with Jane.

You consider messaging Kanaya, asking if you should dress up or not, but you’re not even sure if she’ll show, and if she isn’t planning to, you don’t want to have explicitly asked her out and been rejected - that would be way more painful than just having the chance to say that she didn’t show up and not knowing for certain or not. Maybe you’ll have to cross that bridge someday, but today won’t be that day.

You’re nervous just taking this chance.

“Fuck! What the fucking fuck?” Roxy shouts.

“Roxy?” You ask, because you really aren’t sure what’s going on, but it doesn’t sound good.

“Fucking bitch… she’s doing something she thinks is wrong, apparently, won’t tell me what, and… and she’s acting like she doesn’t have a choice.” She says. She says it like it's a coherent summary, and like you’re not shocked to hear her call her almost-lover a ‘fucking bitch’, then continues, “I’m getting a drink.”

You try to convince her not to. You threaten to match her shot for shot. She makes you for two shots, the first one burns terribly in the back of your throat, and you fail to swallow it. You pour yourself the amount you failed to swallow, and take the shot. You don’t know how she tolerates this - the feeling is vile, the taste is vile, and the only reason you’re doing this is that you’re relatively certain she’ll stop before she gives herself alcohol poisoning this way, and given how badly drunk she got the night she and Jane had their last fight, you think it’s a real possibility that she might actually poison herself.

After that, she goes upstairs to cry, which you suppose is a much healthier response than continuing to drink. It’s not the best outcome, but the best outcome would probably be for her to talk to someone, and you’re not sure there’s anyone here who’d be a good target for that. Dave and Dirk are both on the opposite side of town, and you’re… well, you’re feeling a little unsympathetic, since you fucking _ warned her, damn it _ . More importantly, you’re not sure Roxy really fully developed managing her emotions not through alcohol, and that means you’re not sure she  _ knows _ to reach out. 

Although, your claims to the contrary aside, apparently you’re feeling sympathetic enough to violate one of the things you wanted to never do to protect her from the fallout. That was stupid, but, you can feel it, and it helps. Not as much as you’d like, but you’re less nervous, and you’re more certain you’ll be able to get yourself to show up. You consider the bottle in front of you. Would two more help more, or hurt?

You don’t suppose they could hurt in regards to being afraid, and it’s not like you’ll be sober when you show up anyway. You pour yourself another two shot glasses full of vodka, and then you’re done. By the time those kick in, you realize that you need to get there. Which is fine, you’ll just text Dave to come pick you up, you can’t imagine he’ll object much.

One problem. 

That means explaining the entire situation to Dave.

You are uniquely capable of handling that problem right now, though, because right now, you could probably convince yourself to do anything.

TT: hey Davve  
TT: In thrtity minutes  
TT: Can you come pikb me up  
TT: And drop me off by the Indian fod place near camups?  
TG: who are you  
TG: and what have you done with my sister?  
TG: roxy what the fuck are you doing  
TT: I’;m not roxy..  
TG: no you’re right roxy is much more understandable than you  
TT: I did something sdunb  
TG: what the hell is “sdbun”  
TG: “sdunb”  
TG: fuck that’s hard to type  
TT: “Dumb”  


It takes you much longer than you would like to type the word “dumb”, but then, you’re not used to being drunk, and you’re doubly not used to typing drunk.

TG: “dumb” like?  
TT: I threatednd to match Roxy shot for shot and then I ddind’t chicken otu.  
TG: and she kept going until you were this drunk?  
TG: i am going to fucking kill our sister  
TT: No  
TT: uh  
TT: I dont; know how t o say this.   
TT: I might have drakn more?  
TT: After?   
TT: Because I was ernvous?  
TT: *nerovous  
TT: *nervous  
TT: And it helped?  
TG: god damn it rose  
TT: I mean, it helped!  
TG: of course it did  
TG: do you think roxy isn’t self-medicating?  
TG: do you think your mom isn’t self-medicating?  
TT: Fine, fiar point  
TT: I wont’ do ti again.  
TG: good  
TG: why the hell do you want to be at a restaurant if you’re this drunk?  
TT: i have a date?  
TG: text her  
TG: and tell her you want to reschedule  
TT: But I CAN”T!  
TG: why not  
TT: Because then I’ll be askng her out!  
TG: but you already have a date  
TT: Mavby.  
TT: She was sort of asked out fro me?  
TG: how does that happen  
TT: It’s a long story alfright?  
TG: “alfright”  
TG: i’m dying rose  
TT: This isn’t funny!  
TG: w/e  
TG: either way  
TG: long story or not  
TG: you’re just going to embarass yourself  
TG: fucking grow up  
TT: Are uyou seriously telling a drunk gril to ask someone out?  
TG: ugh fine i’ll give you a ride  
TG: but for the record this is a terrible idea  
TG: and I tried to talk you out of it  
TG: and if kanaya accuses me of being in on this you are obligated to tell her that it’s not my fault.  
TT: Fine.  
TG: also i don’t care how drunk she got you  
TG: i’m going to fucking kill roxy anyway  
TG: she ought to know you’re at risk of alcoholism  
TG: and i don’t care what she does  
TG: but she can’t suck you into things  
TT: She’s having a really bad day, Dave.  
TT: Thing s with Jane went west real bad  
TG: west?  
TT: *suoth  
TG: …  
TG: ugh  
TG: fine  
TG: i’ll kill her supportively  
TG: she’s not getting out of getting yelled at for this.  
TT: Fine.  


You dress up nicely before he arrives (or, at least nicely in your drunk mind.) 

There’s one problem: You forget that Dave is coming until after he arrives, and you ignore your phone for the first two minutes as he pings you repeatedly before you finally pick it up.

TG: god damn it rose  
TG: let me in  
TG: please let me in rose  
TG: you’ve got thirty seconds before I leave  
TG: fifteen  


You rush down the stairs, and he greets you with a “sup.” True to his word, he takes you to the restaurant and only tries mildly to convince you to just ask the girl out and do this when you’ve sobered up. Kanaya is right there, and she’s so pretty and you are so glad you came, until she tells you to go home and sober up like Dave did, and then you feel like an idiot, because ultimately all you did was make a fool of yourself.

You set your date for the next day, and during the morning, Roxy knocks on your door

“So…” Roxy says tentatively as you enter the room. You notice that she’s tipsy again again - she apparently had some kind of alcohol up here, which frustrates you endlessly, because ultimately it meant she was just being an ass when she called your bluff. Maybe she hadn’t drank any more that night anyway - you have no way of knowing, “Dave talked to me.”

“I didn’t tell him to yell at you, I tried to talk him out of it.” You say, but you’re sure your frustration shows, because you honestly regret telling him not to since she could have gotten what she wanted  _ and _ not dragged you into her bullshit. You suppose you could have just backed down, but…

Nah, you were wrong. You have to admit that to yourself.

Roxy, however, holds her hands up defensively, “No, I should have backed down. I was being an ass. No, Dave told me you drank more.”

“You aren’t allowed to be worried, Roxy.” You scowl.

“Why not?”

“Actually, you know what Rox? I’ll give you the right to be worried  _ if _ you say three words to me. Say ‘I’m an alcoholic.’ Fucking say what we’ve all been dancing around all these years.”

Roxy glowers back - you realize that ‘hardass’ might have been the wrong approach for this, but you’re so fed up with her bullshit, and you just want her to tell the truth!

“Fine.” She says, “I’m sorry for being worried.”

She storms out, and you bury your face in your hands. That was the wrong response, and you know it.

You walk out after her, “I’m sorry, that was the wrong approach.”

“You think?” 

You sigh, “I’m just worried, and-”

“And I don’t want to talk about this right now, Rose. I just wanted to check to see if my little sister was OK.” She says, and she sounds almost pleadingly, “Please, allow me control of that one thing. Everything else is so fucked up right now.”

You sigh, “Roxy, you can’t control this one thing. I’d love to give you that, but I can’t. I can’t give you control of my life because it’s not yours to control. What I did was stupid. I know that. I don’t plan on doing it again. I didn’t plan on doing it the first time. You can choose not  _ encourage _ me to do stupid things like that again, that’s within your control, but  _ I _ let myself get carried away with trying to protect you in ways that were self-destructive for me. That’s not a thing you can change.”

She sighs, “I didn’t think you’d really do it, you know?”

“I know.” You say, “I just didn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Can I let you in on a stupid plan?” Roxy asks, changing the subject, probably because this is getting too close to her for comfort. You suppose you don’t have much choice but to roll with it. You’ve offered your opinion, you’ve expressed your worry, she has reason to understand why you’re worried, and honestly you know she’s getting closer to realizing that this is fucked up. You can do nothing more now.

“Fine.” You say.

“I’m going to go see Jane.” Roxy says, “I’m going to buy tickets, I’m going to see her, I’m going to make her say no to my face.”

“I suspect I can’t talk you out of this.” You say. It’s a statement, not a question, but the question is implicit.

“You can’t.” She agrees.

“Do you need help packing?” You ask, and Roxy nods.

“Well, I’d like it.” She says.

You help her pack as best you can, which, given that her room is an absolute mess, is not that well. Still, you are some help, and that means you get the plan from her. She’s leaves late this afternoon, and she gets in mid Monday, and that she’ll leave very early Tuesday morning. (“So you’ll be back to go to synagogue.” “Ugh.” “You’d prefer to make me go alone with mom?” “No, I know.”) You convince her to get a hotel for Monday night, instead of relying on Jane to let her in (“Look, Rox, do you really want to be a drunk on the streets of Raleigh for a night?” “I’m not a drunk!”), and to write emergency contact information and put it in her wallet. (“C’mon, Rose, it won’t matter.” “Rox. Just fucking do it.” “Fine, if it’ll make you sleep better.”)

She tries to convince you that if she doesn’t sleep tonight, Jane will definitely let her in, out of pity. You glower at her, and say that that’s actually kind of a fucked up strategy. She points out that she’s taking a train across the country to force a girl to break up with her to her face, and you say that that fact ought to make her more careful, not less. Eventually, you get her packed, and she tells you she’s got an auto-taxi to catch, but that she needs to change. 

You step out for a moment, and then after a couple minutes, she comes out wearing what looks one of Dirk’s sweatshirts and a pair of leggings, which is incredibly, overwhelmingly slobbish for her. You’re almost proud of her for that alone. Plus, you didn’t see her pack a flask, so she must be planning to go sober. That’s hard, and you think it’s the right choice. 

You don’t say anything, though. It’s possible she forgot, and you don’t want to be responsible for her remembering.

Instead, you hug her goodbye, wish her luck, and then you start preparing for your date. You dress up again today, but this time you are sober when you put your clothing together, and so you choose better in terms of clothing. You get yourself to the date, and it seems like things might go well until you sit down with her.

And then the fight starts. She wants to know why you were drunk, but that’s a story that you can’t fully tell, because it’s partly Roxy’s. You also don’t  _ want _ to tell it, because the part of it that is yours is  _ humiliating.  _ She wants to know, because of course she does, why wouldn’t she want to know why you fucking showed up to a date drunk, that is a perfectly reasonable thing to want.

What’s less reasonable is that she leaves you sitting there alone at the table because you won’t tell her what happened, and you aren’t sure what to do. You apologize to the waiter, and say your date left. It’s an awkward exchange all around, but he wishes you well, and you smile, and flee.

There’s no one home when you get back.

No Roxy to complain to. Well, you could complain to her on Pesterchum, but…

But you can’t really complain to her about it anyway, because you’d be complaining to her about her drinking again, and you know that she doesn’t want to talk to you about that, and you can’t say “I didn’t want to tell her about your drinking in this case because it’s not really mine to tell” without making your loss of the date about her.

You could talk to Dave, but he had to put up with you drunk, and…

And you should probably apologize for that.

TT: I am sorry about yesterday.  
TT: I know I made a massive fool of myself.  
TT: I’m sorry I dragged you into my bullshit.  
TG: it’s fine  
TG: you are home very early from today’s date  
TG: what happened?  
TG: are you texting while you are on a date?  
TT: No.  
TT: She left.  
TT: We had a fight.  
TT: I was being stupid.  
TT: I felt I couldn’t tell her the Roxy part of the story.  
TT: And my part of the story relied on the Roxy part of the story, plus it’s super embarrassing.  
TG: did you tell her it was someone elses story in part?  
TT: No, why would she believe that?  
TG: you can’t know if you don’t try  
TT: Ugh  
TG: look do you still want her  
TT: Yes.  
TG: then tell her  
TT: UGHHH  
TT: Fine.  
TT: But if this goes badly I’m going to fucking die of embarrassment and haunt you.  


And so you message Kanaya.

TT: What I’m about to say doesn’t change the fact that I am a little bit mad at you. However…  
TT: I feel like maybe I wasn’t sufficiently forthcoming  
TT: The problem with explaining what happened is that parts of it are really not my story to tell  
TT: The parts that are are embarrassing and stupid and trust me, I feel embarrassed and stupid  
TT: But even with some space from the moment where you asked, I’m not entirely sure how I could have told the part that was really mine to tell without exposing someone else’s secrets.  
TT: I suppose I could say “well, I had really good reason for taking the first two shots but I can’t really talk about them, and the other two were just ‘well, I’m already drunk, so might as well take more of the edge off’”.  
TT: But I’m not sure that captures the whole story.  
TT: I’m sorry I was cagey.  
TT: That said, I’m also quite angry.  
TT: I had no time to prepare for the questions you asked  
GA: I’m Going To Stop You There  
TT: And you embarrassed me in front of a room full of people, and I don’t know why you thought I would want to talk about something obviously humiliating on a first date - sorry, finishing the last message.  
GA: You Did Not Have Time To Prepare To Respond?  
GA: You Did Not Think Huh I Showed Up To A Date Drunk I Might Need To Explain That?  
GA: I Do Not Even Believe That Rose  
TT: I don’t know why everyone expects me be on top of everything all the time!  
GA: This Was A Trivial One To “Be On Top Of”  
TT: Well, I wasn’t!  
GA: I Understand That.  
GA: And I Understand That You Were In A Tough Position.  
GA: Although Frankly Had You Said Then What You Just Told Me I Probably Would Have Begrudgingly Accepted it.  
GA: But I Think Based On What You Actually Said At The Time My Response Was Quite Reasonable.  


You don’t have a good answer to that. You don’t think your anger is unreasonable - she hurt you, she embarrassed you, she left you in an awkward position, and she didn’t trust you when that lack of trust was something of a deal breaker. It’s just an unsolvable situation, and you want to try again, but you don’t see the result turning out any differently.

TT: Reasonable, maybe.  
TT: Fair even.  
TT: But I still think I have the right to be upset about it.  
TT: And to be honest it seems like you refuse to trust me at all.  
GA: I Barely Know You Rose.  
GA: It’s Not Really A Seems Thing  
GA: I Do Not Trust You Much Because I Do Not Know You.  
GA: I Do Not Have A Basis For That Trust  
GA: And I Have Decent Reason To Not Trust Would-Be Lovers In General Even Ones I Knew Much Better Than You.  
GA: But I Suppose You Did Not Know That  
GA: Since You Don’t Know Me At All Either.  
GA: Besides It Seems A Little Hypocritical To Say “This Is Someone Else's Secret”   
GA: But Then “You Don’t Trust Me”  
GA: Because In General “This Is Someone Else’s Secret” Is Not A Thing One Often Has To Say To A Romantic Partner One Trusts  


Again, you don’t have a good answer to that. The Roxy story was one you could tell to Dave, because he was family, but not one you could tell to Kanaya. You  _ are _ asking her for something you aren’t willing to give, and it’s fair for her to point that out.

TT: Maybe two weeks of knowing each other isn’t a great basis for a relationship.  
GA: I Do Not Think That Is The Problem  
GA: I Think You Are Being Hypocritical Here  
GA: And I Think You Should Decide Which Side Of This You Are Going To Choose  
GA: Am I A Person You Can Trust?  
GA: Or Is Trust Not A Thing You Can Expect Me To Share With You Yet?  
GA: That Is A Choice You Have To Make  
GA: But I Do Not Think More Time Would Make It For You.  
TT: I…  
TT: Fine.  
TT: I guess I’m sorry for not trusting you.  
TT: I don’t want this to change how you treat my sister when / if you meet her  
TT: But fucking, storytime, I guess.  
GA: You Could Also Say I Was Right Not To Trust You  
GA: You Don’t Have To Tell This Story If You Aren’t Ready.  
TT: No, I was hurt by what you did, and if we resolve it, I don’t want that to be the pattern we set.  
TT: I mean, I don’t know if we’ll salvage this, but if we do, I want to salvage it in the way that builds a relationship based on mutual respect and trust.  
TT: Not on mutual distrust.  
TT: … I don’t know how to start this story? It’s actually kind of a long one.  
GA: At The Beginning?  
TT: Which beginning?  
GA: The First One?  
TT: Alright, well, since you asked, you’re getting the most unabridged version.  
TT: Alright, so, around when I was 10, my older sister started drinking heavily.  
TT: When I was 13ish, she and another young woman had a… very complicated and highly intimate relationship?  
TT: I’m not being cagey here, they never defined it, or more precisely never defined it to me, then, and tbh our story takes place in another failure of them to define that relationship now.  
TT: Anyway, about later, the other girl moved across the country to take her grandmother’s somewhat questionably ethical company.  
TT:  Our other protagonist's alcoholism only got worse as all of her friends moved across the country to attend college and her rather questionable academic record stuck her at home.  
TT: After all, all of the children that got stuck with her mother were also the one’s who had always struggled with school for disability reasons.  
TT: Although Roxy’s alcoholism probably never helped her much there, come to think of it.  
TT: Anyway, Roxy’s friend group dissolved.  
TT: Roxy went from “occasionally showing up to class drunk” to “always drunk. Always”.  
TT: Anyway, skip forward a few years. Somehow, Roxy is drinking still more.  
GA: And You Thought Huh, Taking Even One Shot Ever Is A Good Idea?  
TT: No, in fact, I did not.  
TT: I knew it was a bad idea when I did it, but the other outcomes seemed worse.  
TT: In retrospect, I think my decision was hasty, given that I misinterpreted some fundamental questions of access in ways…  
TT: Well, the fact that an alcoholic had alcohol in her room probably should have been obvious to me.  
TT: Doesn’t matter. Carrying on from where I was  
TT: Roxy and Jane stay in touch long distance, although their relationship never develops because Jane is always busy and Roxy has some spending money, but not enough to make regular trips to the middle of North Carolina.  
GA: “Jane” as in “Jane Crocker”?  
TT: God damn it.  
TT: Her sexuality is not a matter of public record, OK?  
TT: Well, it kind of is.  
TT: There are plenty of people who know she’s gay, but generally that’s not one the media picked up on.  
GA: Got it.  
TT: Even if I hate her a lot.  
GA: I Still Don’t Understand How Any Of This Has To Do With Why You Showed Up To Our Date Drunk.  
TT: You said start at the beginning.  
TT: So I did.  
GA: That Might Have Been A Mistake  
TT: Probably.  
TT: But we’re nearly done.  
TT: Anyway, just the other day, Jane and Roxy had a big fight.  
TT: They made up, talked a bunch, Roxy forgave Jane, because she’s an idiot in every imaginable way.  
GA: Although Not The One Who Knew That TWO Of Her Relative’s Had Serious Alcohol Problems When She Decided to Get Drunk  
TT: Do you want me to finish this damn story or not?  
GA: Sorry Carry On  
TT: Cool. Roxy started drinking still worse during the time that she and Jane were fighting - understandable: She was really the last of Roxy’s friends not from the local party culture.  
TT: Anyway, they stop fighting for, like, a week, and then just yesterday, apparently discussed their feelings a little bit, and then, just yesterday, Roxy gets a text from Jane like “hey I’m going to break a promise I made to you and do something awful, I don’t have any choice, fuck you I’m outie.”  
TT: Understandably, Roxy was upset.  
TT: As you might expect, Roxy’s first response to being upset is “Yo, there’s a bottle of Vodka right here, I’m going to drink it.”  
TT: I was somewhat concerned that her response was going to turn into “Yo, there’s a bottle of vodka right here, I’m going to drink all of it and half of another one.”  


You pause for some time, having typed only the letter “I”. You don’t know how to say this. This was stupid, reckless, dangerous, but also, it was what you could come up with. 

TT: I panicked.  
TT: I worried she was going to poison herself or something.  
TT: I found her past out (breathing, mind you) last time they fought.  
TT: I did something.  
TT: Grabbed one of my mother’s bottles (because I knew where they were hidden) and threatened to match her - because I didn’t know she wouldn’t drink herself to death, but I knew that she would stop before she seriously injured me.  
TT: She called my bluff, which lead to me having to take a couple shots to prove I was serious.  
TT: And then you need only to scroll up to get the part of the story where a mildly drunk Rose goes “Hye, thta kiinda helped with m y nervesh” because Drunk Rose types like a dumbass and is a dumbass.  
TT: There you go.  
GA: You probably could have started with “Roxy Was Upset”  
GA: But Thank You For Trusting Me.  
GA: I Think What You Did Was Probably Not Your Best Decision  
GA: But I Understand It Now  
GA: Thank You.  
TT: I agree that it was not my best decision  
TT: Although, Roxy is still alive.  
TT: And I don’t think she got much more smashed that night.  
TT: So maybe I made the right call.  
TT: Where do we go from here, Kanaya?  
TT: I really don’t know.  
TT: You are attractive and smart and this was a major fight.  
TT: And I don’t know what to do from this point.  
GA: I Do Not Know Either.  
GA: Do You Want To Give This A Third Try?  
TT: Sure, but let’s not go back to the same restaurant. That would be kind of awkward.  
GA: I Agree.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it!
> 
> I have another exciting homestuck related project that I'm working on, but you probably won't see it for a while between this and the book project I'm doing for Real School(tm). Anyway, please leave any feedback you have :)
> 
> This chapter is one I like a LOT, and honestly, when I wrote the first draft, I wasn't sure how a lot of it was going to turn out. A lot of the conversation with Kanaya was something where I didn't even know what I wanted, and so most of it came as a pleasant surprise.


	10. Chapter 9: Dirk: Worry// Roxy: Go!

Your name is Dirk Strider, and today is September 20. Dave has just left to take Rose somewhere, muttering something about his sister being a “dumbass drunk”, which is odd, because Rose has always been a stickler about not drinking. A few moments later, you get a text from Jane.

GG: I just realized that Roxy is going to tell you her side of this story, so I guess I should tell mine, as well.  
GG: Because I’d rather not lose another friend over this.  
TT: Stop.  
TT: Do not pull me past the event horizon of the Roxy-and-Jane bullshit blackhole.   
GG: Sorry, Dirk.  
GG: The rest of us had to deal with you and Jake.  
GG: Plus, you’re already well past the event horizon here.  
TT: I don’t feel like I’ve been stretched into spaghetti.  
TT: I feel rather solidly unspaghettified, actually.  
TT: And I certainly have not experienced the relativistic effects of being pulled into a black hole.  
TT: Please, think of my brother.   
TT: Who will take care of him if I die entering your bullshit?  
GG: Hoo hoo  
GG: I’m afraid there’s no way out of this one.  
GG: This is probably the last of the Roxy-And-Jane bullshit ride, though.  
TT: I’ve heard that before.  
GG: Ugh.  
GG: I just blocked her, so.  
GG: It’s almost certainly the last time we go through this ride.  
GG: I’m going to unblock her soon, but she will not forgive me this time.  
GG: Sadly, I think this is the last time we fight.  
TT: >Sadly  
TT: >I blocked her  
TT: Pick one.  
GG: I have to do what I’m doing!  
GG: I know she doesn’t like it, and I don’t either.  
GG: But if I listen to her then she’ll convince me.  
GG: And that’s not a risk I can afford.  
GG: But she won’t listen to me when I tell her to back off!  
TT: See, this is precisely the bullshit I didn’t want to get dragged into.  
TT: There’s nothing I can do to help here, Jane.  
GG: You don’t have to do anything.  
GG: Just listen to me?  
GG: Because I don’t want you to side against me.  
GG: I’m not saying I want you to side against her, either.  
GG: I really don’t want to hurt her.  
GG: I just want to explain myself.  
TT: You don’t have to explain.  
TT: You’ve both done enough wrong that it’s hard to imagine taking either of your side  
TT: She’s my sister, but that doesn’t mean I can’t tell that she’s not been perfect to you, either.  
TT: I’m fucking Switzerland in all this.  
GG: Oh.  
GG: Well, thank you.  
GG: That’s a huge relief.  
GG: Can I whine to you about the company, then?  
TT: Sure.  


And she does. Part way through the conversation, Dave gets back, and when you asked him what happens, he just says, “Jane and Roxy are a mess, Rose apparently doesn’t realize that drinking for her nerves is a terrible plan, and I am apparently a chauffeur of people who make terrible decisions.” 

You sigh. This is a clusterfuck. You text Roxy:

TT: Your little sister has been drinking.  
tipsyGnostalgic is an idle chum!  
TT: Just thought you should know.  


You continue texting Jane for another half hour, and by the end of that conversation you mildly hate her grandmother for leaving her that disaster of a company.

The next morning, Roxy gets back to you.

TG: yea dave told me  
TG: hes not super happy with me  
TG: i kinda feel like a dumbass actually  
TG: its partly my fault rose was drinking  
TT: I’ve told you this before, but you shouldn’t drag Rose into your fights with Jane.  
TG: she dragged herself in  
TG: she decided to play the hero and try to stop me from drinking myself into a coma  
TG: it worked i guess  
TG: also how did u know i was fighting jane  
TT: You’re not the only person who talks to me, you know.  
TT: Although, if she hadn’t told me, it still would have been my first guess.  
TG: has she tried to convince u that u should block me as well?  
TG: god when i get down to south carolina i am going to rip her a new one  
TT: No.  
TT: She was convinced that you were going to try to turn me against her.  
TT: Also, you’re going to South Carolina?  
TT: That’s probably a bad idea.  
TT: If both of you are convinced that the other is trying to turn people against them, I can’t say your relationship seems terribly healthy.  
TT: It’s probably better to let this one go, Rox.  
TG: and u probably should let jakey go  
TG: also if u tell her i am going to sc i will buy you the least ironic pair of shades i can find and then destroy every one of ur shitty anime shades to the point that they can’t even be worn ironically  
TT: I’m not going to tell her.  
TT: I’ve told her I’m fucking Switzerland in all this.  
TT: I like making things better for my friends, but even I know better than to touch this shit.  
TT: All I’m going to to say is this is an Eisenhower invading Vietnam level mistake.  
TT: You should let her go, Roxy.  
TG: and im saying its not happening dirk  
TT: Alright.  


It’s not alright. They won’t back down, and this has been bad  _ every time _ before - days or somethings weeks of both of them being crushed, crying, snippy messes. This time seems worse, and given that Rose has apparently found Roxy passed out after fights, and was worried for Roxy’s life…

You don’t know how this ends, but it seems not merely unhealthy, but more than a little dangerous, for Roxy to pursue Jane like this. She doesn’t need to a romantic relationship, or to save the world, she needs to get her shit in order so that her terrible decisions don’t make her life much,  _ much _ worse. 

Much as you love her, you’re not sure that Jane  _ can _ be saved here. That’s a terrible reality, but it’s a possible one. You worry that Roxy will make Jane dig in her heels, though - that’s another thing that could go wrong here, and you have the feeling that would be awful.

You half-shrug. Maybe they’ll surprise you.

* * *

You are Roxy Lalonde, and today is Sunday, September 21. Rose has just finished helping you pack, and you’ve sent her out of your room so you can change. That’s half the reason you’ve sent her away, at least. The more important part is sitting on your bookshelf.

You fight with this for a moment. There’s a conflict here, one that’s new for you. You’ve never felt the need to hide your drinking from Rose before: It’s bothered her for as long as you can remember, and you’ve never been all that concerned. 

But there’s a lesson beginning to crystalize. Rose and Jane have been worried forever. It’s you worrying about Rose drinking that’s instructive. You can’t be mad or worried about Rose’s drinking without learning what you’re trying to teach, and that’s simple: there’s a family history here. Your mother is an alcoholic. You’re not stupid, you’ve done your research: That increases her risk of addiction substantially.

But it’s the gnawing bit that drives it all home, the bit that’s a flashing sign that just won’t let you just ignore it: The flask on the bookshelf marks the curse that your mother and you share, that you would do anything to protect Rose from.

Rose made a young adult - read: stupid - decision with alcohol one time. You’re terrified for her. If that’s true, then making that same young adult decision regularly for the last seven years, and nearly daily since you were 18, should scare you more. It should scare you in the way that drives you to action, not just worry.

You are not worried about Rose because she shares your mother's genes.

You are worried about Rose because she shares your genes. 

It’s a lesson that’s obvious.

But you’ve never been very good at learning lessons that weren’t built from your own lesson plans, so you shrug, pick up your flask, and refill it anyway. You pack an entire bottle of vodka into your bag, as well. The flask will probably run down. Even if you acknowledge the obvious, that you have a serious drinking problem, you don’t have to address every problem at the same time.

Your drinking is a problem for another day. What’s happening with Jane is more pressing. You still resolve to try to stay alert - if you’re aiming to resolve the problem with Jane, then you do have to interact with the drinking insofar as it influences the problem with Jane. 

That’s an empty resolution, and you already know it. 

You sigh. Maybe you should  _ just _ bring the flask? If you pace yourself, it should be enough, and if you don’t pace yourself, then having more will only make things worse.

It’s a problem for another day. It HAS to be a problem for another day, you don’t have an hour to beat yourself up about this, you have maybe fifteen minutes before you absolutely must be out the door and frankly even if you take more than a couple minutes Rose will be suspicious that something is up. 

You still agonize over the bottle for a long moment before you zip up your bag. That’s progress, right?

You quickly change into something comfortable (you rush, somewhat, so Rose is less likely to catch on that you were up to something) and step out. You hug her goodbye, and she wishes you luck. With that, you leave to catch your taxi. 

Your taxi is, of course, just a self-driving car. You get in, and the coordinates are preset: It’s dropping you off at Pennsylvania Station. It’s a long drive, and you fiddle with your phone most of the way.

About an hour in, you start getting nervous. What are you even going to say? You take a swig from your flask, and then another one, but you need to be alert later, and you’re currently the closest you’ve ever come to winning against yourself, so you manage to put the flask down for now. Besides, you need to pace yourself, and you’ve only got the equivalent of fourish shots in here. You don’t want to have to refill it, because you know that refilling it is danger territory.

That helps for a while, and fiddling with your phone helps more. Just before you get into New York, you’re playing games you haven’t played since you were much younger on your phone, and you desperately wish you could just be texting Jane, but your inability to text Jane is the reason you’re taking the world’s most boring car ride. 

Once you get to New York, the sights are what distract you. It’s an impressive city, one you’ve always loved. There’s something about the vastness that makes you feel like a part of something even when you have nothing to do with anything here. There’s a point where you can see the vast seawall started by one of the administrations of the mid-twenties, half political pose, half real safety measure.

It’s taller than the sea will ever rise. That’s intentional - it’s a response to some decision moving carbon targets up, a fuck you to the rest of the country:

_ The rest of y’all can drown if you want.  _ It says,  _ We have the money to keep the sea out, to do anything we want. You’re only hurting you. _

The problem, of course, is that it’s true. The city, if not as a municipality, at least as a municipality and a set of extremely wealthy citizens, does have the money to keep the keep the sea back, to replace the pavement with materials that will survive the new heat. It, and it’s wealthiest citizens, can crank the AC up forever. If push came to shove, it could probably afford to buy the land to feed itself, and temperature control the growth of the food.

The rest of the world  _ can _ drown. The city will survive. At some point, though, that means the city doesn’t worry what the rest of the world does. 

You take a swig from your flask.

Eventually, the car drops you off at Pennsylvania Station. You hurry to get everything out of the car, and press the “release” button on a phone app. It drives off, and you have a short wait at the station, which…

You have nothing, especially since you can’t even use alcohol to numb the boredom, which leads to a lot of thumb twiddling. You’d imagined that this was going to feel like some of gallant heroics when you rush off to redeem the girl, but for the most part, it’s been hours of waiting. 

After what feels more like hours than the fifteen minutes of flex you scheduled yourself, the train finally arrives, and you are allowed on board. It’s properly night by the time you get on the train, so you head straight to a small sleeping compartment you reserved, and eat a couple Pop-tarts out of your bag.

You wake up a couple times during the night, but eventually you wake up some eight hours later, which still leaves you another five hours before your train arrives. You stare outside at the Virginian suburbs racing past. You set up a laptop. You play a couple of your favorite games - you sink a couple hours into pikmin.

But you can only distract yourself from your day so much, and by the time you pass Raleigh, you're already nervous, and you only get another hour or so of distraction of your games before you’re just thinking about the day to come.

What are you even going to say to her?

What will she say when she sees you? Will she slam the door in your face? Will you need that hotel room you reserved? Will she fight you? Will she tell you that this is none of your business? Is your friendship just going to end extremely explicitly today?

How prepared are you to handle that? You decide that you’re not all that prepared. You’re terrified. You grab the flask out of the sweatshirt you wore yesterday, and down half the contents. The unmixed vodka burns, and you kind of wish you packed something more pleasant. It doesn’t resolve the fear much at all, and you finish the flask.

That’s your warning to stop drinking, you remind yourself. If you show up having drunk this much you’ll be almost sober, sober enough that you can act it, by the time you get there.

That resolve carries you through another half an hour of the train ride, but the fear keeps getting worse, and you’re more nervous than you were when you first drained the flask, so you dig the bottle out and refill your flask. That’s what you’re limiting yourself to, you resolve. Sure, you’ll be drunk by the time you show up, but she’ll have to forgive that - what you have to forgive is much worse.

You drink slowly while booting up your emulator and play an old as balls Pokemon ROM. It’s easier when you’re drunk than Pikmin, which frankly you’re bad at when you’re even slightly drunk. That carries you until you’re half an hour out of Charlotte, and your flask is empty again.

This time, you’re not much of a match for your desire to drink: You’re still slightly nervous, and lowered inhibitions don’t make it easier for you to make yourself behave reasonably. Still, you only half refill your flask. Yeah, you’ll be smashed, but that’s fine. You’re not going to pass out or anything. 

You make a point of finishing that before you get off the train, since you won’t be able to drink it in the streets, and by the time it’s gone you’re feeling pretty good. You do manage to remember all of your luggage, but it’s a near miss, and you are really glad for the AR glasses you brought along for directions to your first bus, because you would be very confused by phone directions at this point. 

You can see the looks of concern that people have when they look at you on the bus. Nobody meets your eyes. You are the drunk on the bus, you realize eventually. It’s not a thing that’s never happened before, but you normally actively avoid buses when you’re this drunk. You hate making everyone uncomfortable and you fear you won’t make Jane any less uncomfortable. Still, you’ve come this far, and you don’t have much in the way of good sense.

When you get to the downtown station in the suburb Jane lives in, you take off running - your glasses report that will be faster than taking a bus, and you don’t want to get stared at on another bus. 

You rush away from the bus station, and you fail to notice small drop of a couple feet in your hurry - the pavement near one side of the bus station moving from a raised section to a flat one below. Your foot snags on the shin height concrete barrier in front of it, and you fall. 

It’s not a far fall, but you trip head first, so it’s a fall from your height plus a couple feet, and your head hits the ground first. 

The world disappears with the blow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, geeze. Roxy, get your shit together.
> 
> Next chapter should be up in ordinary time, but it might take a couple extra days since 1) It's a little long (not as long as the first one of the one after the next one, but kinda long) and 2) I'm about to be on a road trip with my beta writer. (Who is, also, to be clear, my girlfriend - I don't just take long road trips with my writing friends normally... although that would be pretty cool.)


	11. Chapter 10: Jane: Pick up the phone

Your name is Jane Crocker, and you are at school when you get the phone call.

You check it, expecting to immediately cancel the phone call, but it says it’s from a hospital, and you have no idea why the fuck a hospital is calling you, but apparently one is, so step out of the room with “apparently this is a hospital?” and match the confused look of your group member.

“Hello, Jane Crocker speaking.” You say, in your most Official Business Voice, because you’re still in Official Business Mode. 

“Good, that’s who I’m looking for.” The person on the other end says. “This is the Novant Health Emergency Room, and we have a Roxanne Lalonde here, carrying contact information for you. She had a nasty fall and had to be picked up by ambulance. She’s conscious now, but she’s not terribly coherent, and we don’t think it’s safe for her to be travelling alone,  especially since she doesn’t have any kind of vehicle to transport herself.”

“You have who?” You say, incredulously.

“Roxanne Lalonde? She had your contact information on her.” He repeats, “If you don’t know her-”

“No, I know her.” You reply, “I’ll- I’ll be right over.”

“I have to leave, family medical emergency.” You fib. It’s not completely false - Roxy is like family to you. 

Your group member nods, and you rush out. You grab your bag and jacket off your desk, and you run to your car. 

You put two and two together as you plug in the name of the ER. Roxy is here because she thought she was going to swoop in and save the day. She saw you blocked her and thought  _ Nah, I know better than her on this one. _

You’re steamed. She has  _ no _ right!

She has no right!

You’re left with a couple questions.

One: What the hell is she doing in an emergency room? What happened to her? Did she get hurt? Why are  _ you _ getting a call? Since when was Roxy organized enough to carry any emergency contact info while travelling? That’s actually a bit suspicious, you think.

Two: What the hell is she doing in Cornelius? Sure, that’s where your house is, but she has to know you’ll be at school. Did she just forget that you have things you do during the day? Did she forget where school was for you? Did she think that rushing to your house would work? Did she plan on waiting out in front of your house until you arrived?

She probably did. You…You suppose it would have been kind of romantic. You’re not the kind of sucker for romance who would forgive completely ignoring your wishes just because something was sweet, though. Still, you think that showing up at your doorstep is a plan that makes sense, even if it’s something that wouldn’t have worked. You’re still confused as to when Roxy decided to do any degree of  _ preparing _ or anything like it, but the suspicion passes. She’s out a decent plan, after all.

Which leaves you a third question:

What the FUCK happened to her?

Did someone hurt her? Is this alcohol poisoning? You hate that that’s the second place your mind goes, but it is. Did she finally overdose? That would explain her being barely coherent, certainly. Still, you don’t think it would have been a long term barrier to travel - by the time that she could leave the ER, she could be able to leave the ER.

Maybe it’s something serious. You can’t know. The woman on the phone told you next to nothing, and you probably won’t know until you’re in the room with her. By the time your car delivers you to the front of the building, you have a whole spiel planned out. 

She’s going to get an earful from you. You’re going to act like you don’t know her in any way other than “I have to take care of you.” You know that she finds “Roxanne” impersonal, so she’s be “Roxanne”. You know that she doesn’t like being ignored. You’re going to ignore her anyway. 

You’ll take care of her, because you have an obligation to do so, but that doesn’t mean you forgive her. She’s crossed a line, crossed your personal boundaries. You ask the attendant where she is, and he points you in the right direction. You know that every inch of your body language bristles with your anger. 

You part the privacy curtain for the room, and you can feel the whole rant you built, the whole grand denunciation, melt away. She looks so vulnerable there, on the hospital bed. She looks confused and out of place. She’s curled up slightly, and not in the way that looks comfortable, she looks like she’s in quite a bit pain.

“Rox...” You say, almost a sympathetic wimper. It’s the opposite of the tough persona you meant to put on, but…

But you love that injured girl. Still, “Rox. What the fuck.”

“I…” She slurs - she was drinking. Of course. You’re probably not being wholly fair - she also has a head injury, which could be making speaking hard, “I fell.”

That answers almost nothing. You suppose it answers how she got injured, although even there it doesn’t answer what the injury actually is. 

“Do you have a head injury, or are you just drunk?” You can’t really keep the contempt out of your voice - you  _ never _ liked her drinking, but she was rarely this drunk when you knew her. You suddenly wonder if her drinking has gotten much worse since you knew her: You knew that she had a problem, but you hadn’t considered that it might have gotten much, much worse since you last saw her.

Have you not been paying enough attention? You thought she might be drinking  _ more _ , but thinking back, there are few, if any, times you can think of in the last year where you know she was sober. Was she drunk most of the time? And if so, was she  _ this _ drunk most of the time? That comes with a jolt of guilt: Have you failed her?

If she’s been drinking dangerously, you certainly have. You’ve relied on her support, but you’ve hardly provided the support she needed: She didn’t need half-assed lecturing of “this isn’t a good idea but I don’t think I need to do anything because you look like you’ve got this under control.” 

She needed someone to be there, and to be serious. You weren’t there. You weren’t serious. You should have been.

You know she couldn’t, that she was drowning under her own problems (but damn it, so were you!), but you wish she’d been there for you if she was convinced that she was going down a wrong path, too.

You can’t keep that bitter train of thought going with the girl in front of you as she is, though. It’s hard to remain seriously upset with someone who you care about and looks miserable, and she looks  _ miserable _ .

“Both, I think?” There’s a slight pause in her speech, and then she seems to realize that she needs to clarify, ‘I’m still a little fuzzy on what exactly happened. I don’t want to think too much.” She says. 

After that, there’s a silence. It’s really, really awkward. You can’t talk about why she’s here - you want to be able to be angry, then, and you’re sure that she will want to be angry then, too, and you’re pretty sure neither of you could manage anger right now, and if she feels as bad as she looks, you’re pretty sure that raising your voice would be unfair.

You can’t talk about anything normal because you don’t know if there is a future for the two of you. You don’t know if you’re friends. The discussion of why she’s here is the discussion of your future or lack thereof, and it’s hard to have a conversation with someone with whom you have a deeply uncertain relationship.

You settle on her health, then. That’s safe. It’s practical. You need the answers.

“Do you know when you’ll be able to leave?” You ask.

She shrugs, and then winces, “They said they want to look over the MRI readings - they’re worried about my brain bleeding?

You nod. 

“What happened?”

“They said I fell from a ledge a couple feet up and hit my head.” She says.

“You don’t remember?”

“I think I do."

You realize this conversation isn’t getting much further. She’s confused  _ and _ drunk, that much is clear. You sit awkwardly by her bedside. It takes a good ten minutes before she starts talking again,

“Yeah, I tripped. I was really drunk, and I was nearly to your house, and… I just didn’t see the drop-off. I think I blacked out for a bit? I remember scattered fragments from the ambulance. They think I’m gonna be alright.”

“You’re just waiting on the results from an MRI?”

“Think so.” She says. 

One of the members of the staff walks in - probably a doctor, but you can’t tell the difference between a doctor and a nurse on sight. She turns to Roxy, “I have good news: there’s not any brain bleeding, and your skull is intact. If you’d like, we can keep you under observation here, or, if you have somewhere you can be watched closely, we can release you there.”

“Jane, I know we’re not on the best terms right now” Roxy says, mentioning in passing the elephant in the room, “But I’d really like to not spend the day in a hospital.”

You nod, “We are absolutely not on the best terms, but we can talk about that later. For now, I’ve already freed up all my responsibilities for the day, speaking of which, why aren’t you in class, you know, in New York?”

The doctor coughs awkwardly, and you sigh. Yeah, this isn’t the place to have this fight.

“Alright, sorry.” You say, “What do I need to watch for?”

“You need to watch to see if her symptoms worsen.” She says, “That means anything from trouble seeing, increased slurring of speech - or even if her speech stays slurred as the alcohol leaves her system. When she falls asleep, you will need to make sure she wakes every two hours, to make sure she’s waking normally. If she starts vomiting repeatedly again, bring her in. If the confusion gets worse, bring her in. I’ll also give both of you a checklist of symptoms.”

You nod.

She turns to Roxy, “Remember that you shouldn’t drink when you have a concussion - it can make it worse. Also, remember to stay away from Acetaminophen when you’re drunk - it will-”

“Seriously damage my liver. Yes.” Roxy slurs, “Not my first rodeo in that regard.”

She nods, “Thought I’d point it out since you probably have a pretty bad headache. Also, keep hydrated. You don’t want a hangover right now.”

Roxy nods, and then winces, “Yeah, I’ll pass on that.”

The doctor talks you through a few more things to watch out for, and warns Roxy against doing anything strenuous, and then Roxy leans on you the whole way out to your car, which would be nice if this whole situation weren’t a disaster, and if…

Yeah, this is the worst way for this to happen. You have dreamed so long about seeing her again, but this is a nightmare. She is injured and drunk and you are angry and unable to say anything about it. 

You imagine that she’s probably angry at you, as well. As you enter the hospital parking lot, you realize for the first time that you might not be the one of you who is angrier. She is probably incensed with you, and this whole situation is probably as awkward for her as it is for you. That doesn’t change anything- you’re still right, damn it!

You put her in the back seat - you think that that probably communicates about how you’re feeling right now, and she rolls her eyes.

“Jane, I don’t get it. You can’t really avoid me here, why are you trying to pretend that you can?” She says. She’s clearer than she was earlier - mostly she just sounds like she’s drunk, which you figure is probably a good sign.

“I’m not trying to avoid you.” You say flatly, “I’m really angry, and I can’t exactly give you an earful right now, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not upset.”

“You have no right.” Roxy mutters under her breath.

“I do.” You scowl, “I’d really rather not have this fight right now, but… But what the hell, Roxy? Do you have no respect for my boundaries? No, you know what? Don’t answer that. It’ll start a real fight, and I don’t know if I can avoid raising my voice in this fight.”

Roxy huffs, “So it’s like that.”

“It’s like that.” You agree.

“Here, I’ll pay for parking.” She says, “I don’t need your pity, and if-”

“I’ll pay for my own damn parking.” You snap, “It’s not like it’s hard on my budget.”

“Well, if you do as you say you’re going to, it’ll be blood money.” Roxy snorts, “So I don’t want it.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not giving it to you.” You snap back, and you do, in fact, pay for the parking when you leave, because, despite Roxy’s objections, you’re in the driver seat, and so you’re the one who can reach the machine at the gate. This whole fight is petty and petulant, but apparently, between a drunk, concussed Roxy and a Jane denied having a real fight, the two of you successfully can approximate two human toddlers.

The car ride is a tense silence - neither of you wants to have the fight that you’re waiting on right now, because it would probably physically hurt Roxy, and you have no desire to do that, but there is no neutral ground. Occasionally, it’s punctured by the smallest bit of small talk (“How are your classes?” To which she replies, “Fine. I’m passing them.”), just attempts at breaking the awkwardness.

But that’s not going to happen. No small talk can possibly outweigh a breaking romantic-almost-relationship, nor a fight that both of you know could turn into a screaming match once it’s finally let loose.

Finally, you reach your house - it’s only a ten minute drive, but it’s the longest ten minutes you’ve ever lived. Your car independently pulls into the driveway, and you get out. Roxy gets out separately from you - she looks a little unsteady on her feet, but apparently the passive aggressive bullshit is reaching refusing-to-accept-medical-support.

You have to let her in the front door, and point to your couch.

“m probably going to sleep for a bit.” Roxy says, “m kinda exhausted.”

You nod, “I’ll wake you up in two hours if you’re not already awake.”

She curls up on the couch, and falls asleep pretty quickly. You wander the room she falls asleep in, unsure what to do. You suppose if you missed class, you should probably make up your work, but you’re not sure you could focus over the thoughts about what happened today.

Instead, you head into the kitchen. You want to clear your head, and baking has always cleared your head. Normally, you only bake relatively complicated things when you’re baking, but today? Today, you’re making bread. Sure, you could do something hard, but that would require actual focus, and this is more meditation than practice. 

You fill half a cup of warm water from the tap, and add a half teaspoon of yeast to activate it. You add both to a large bowl, and you remember the last time you did this around Roxy. You were teaching her to make bread, because she’d had a rough week, and you can’t help but feel your eyes water slightly. That was so long ago, and you’re not sure she’ll ever help you bake anything again. Certainly if this keeps getting worse, you’ll only become more separate. 

You add about half of your flour, your sugar, and your salt. God, you’d miss that girl if she left you. But then, you miss the girl you knew then. She had respect for your boundaries, she never accused you of having blood money. She’d supported you at every turn. When you were bullied for being read-as-gay (You’d say “for being gay”, but they’d read you as a lesbian, not as bi, and you hadn’t been out to yourself at that point, so…), she stood up for you, and her standing up for you mattered, because everyone thought  _ she _ was cool. Before that, you’d stood up for her, when kids were too young to understand that she could be both different and cool - both times, though, you’d been good for each other.

You mix the dough, adding flour until it reaches a consistency you want. You can’t pretend that things were perfect then. They weren’t. In retrospect, she had been an alcoholic even then. Sure, she’d had more control of her addiction, but she still regularly showed up drunk to things that she shouldn’t have - even if those things were rarely time with you. And, in more difficult to accept retrospect, you’d both been terrible at communicating. You’d told her that you were kissing her for practice because you’d been too afraid of the truth and the risks that came with it to say what you meant. Knowing what you know now, she’d similarly hid the truth from you. Either of you could have been much more badly hurt there than you were, and if you’re being honest, you were both hurt - you pined for years, and your pining inhibited normal relationships for both of you. Things weren’t perfect then. But…

You take the dough out of the bowl, and start kneading. But back then, she drank heavily, sure, but she never got worse than minor bruises because of it.Things were alright then! They were stable. You weren’t at cross purposes like this, and she had respect for your boundaries. You haven’t been able to say what you feel to her, but you’re able to take your anger out on the dough. Back then, she’d have called before she showed up, and she’d never have showed up if you asked her for a week off. Of course, back then, you never would have done anything like accepting people be fucking  _ mind controlled _ because it was the only way to prevent further harm, but you’re doing your best!

But…

But she’s doing her best, too. You sigh. 

Yeah, she didn’t call you first. On the other hand, you blocked her. If she has something important to say, you wouldn’t have heard it until she did this. Yes, she showed up even when you clearly didn’t want her to. But if she has something important to say, you should hear it. But that’s not it either, you decide. Yes, you should hear her out, but she needs to be prepared to hear you out, and that doesn’t just mean why you’re angry.

It means why you have to do what you have to do. You’re cornered here, and unless she can magically find you a way out, you’ll do what you have to. You don’t need a lecture, you need a supporter, and if she won’t do that, she doesn’t have to be a part of your life at all. You can deal with that.

Well, you can’t. 

But you might have to. For now, you have a resolution, so you stop kneading the dough and put it back in the bowl, covering the top. With your mind mostly cleared, you sit down with your laptop, and get to work on the classwork you missed for the day. You only had half an hour of the econ class left when you left, so you aren’t too worried about what you missed there, but you send out a text to your business law class. 

_ Hey, folks. Sorry I missed class today - A friend of mine who is travelling wound up with a concussion from a fall. I’ll miss class tomorrow, since I’m monitoring her, although I should be able to make Thursday’s group meeting. What did I miss? _

You go over the readings for the day again while you wait for a text back, and once you get it, you study the sections they went over in class particularly closely. Your group members are thankfully very kind, wishing your injured friend well. You’re really glad for this group - you’ve had some  _ terrible _ groups in your business major, especially when they learn what you’re inheriting. 

Eventually, when you’re about half way done with your homework (about an hour after she went to sleep, since you’re keeping track), the girl sleeping on your couch begins to stir. You keep typing away - if she wakes up all the way, that’s fine, but you’re not going to wake her before you have to: The soberer and further she is out from her injury, the closer the two of you are to being able to have a serious conversation about what happened.

But she wakes up fully. You have no idea how much she drank, so you’ve got no mental math for when she’ll be sober, but she seems quite a lot soberer when she wakes up.

“Hi, Janey.” She says. 

“Hi. How are you feeling?” You ask.

“I dunno. I still feel awful.” She shrugs, “Somewha’ better, I think? I’m pretty thirsty, though.”

A part of your brain wants to make a joke about ‘thirst’, but this isn’t the time. Instead, you nod, and get up to get her a glass of water.

“Wait, aren’t you mad at me? Why are you helping me?”

“I had a chance to think.” You say, “I’m still mad, but being petty doesn’t help anything.”

You fill a glass from the faucet, and bring it back.

She nods, “I can go along with that.”

You’re tempted to say  _ so you’re still mad, too _ , but no shit she’s still mad. You broke (are going to break?) a promise to her, and while you’re perfectly happy to defend your decision, she’s not going to forgive you just because she slept for an hour. 

There’s an awkward pause, and then Roxy frowns.

“Can we… can we talk?” She asks, “This whole dancing around the point thing sucks, and I know you’re mad, and I’m mad, too, but putting it off won’t make things any better.”

You sigh. “Sober up first. This fight is completely pointless when you’re still wasted.”

“Jane, it’ll be hours until I’m actu-actually sober. We’ve had serious conversations with me drunk like this plenty.”

You have to resist the urge to correct her grammar - you know that’s a bad habit at the best of times. Instead, you respond to what she’s actually said, “There’s a couple problems with that, Roxy. The first is that I never really knew you were this drunk, and if I had I probably wouldn’t have had important conversations with you then. The other problem is that I’m not sure we’ve ever had a conversation that was quite this important.”

Roxy shrugs, “So we just keep dancing around it for the next four hours? I’m barely drunk at this point.”

You frown, “Fine, but you don’t get to use ‘I’m drunk’ as an excuse not to answer hard questions or dilemmas. You were warned.”

She nods her agreement, “Of course.”

“Alright, let’s talk.” You say, sighing, “Let’s begin with ‘what the hell did you want to say when you got to my door.’”

Roxy’s opens her mouth, thinks better of whatever she was going to say, and then closes it again. She does this a couple more times before she shrugs, “I guess I just wanted you to tell me it was over to my face. I… I expected this to start out pretty confrontational, and I expected to fail, for the most part. I hoped you would see me and realize ‘oh shit, I can’t do this, my amazing bff is here’. I didn’t really think much past that.”

You sigh, and put your head in your hands, “Is this about closure, or stopping me?”

“Can’t it be about both?” She asks, “I want you to do the right thing, and I want to salvage our friendship, at least, but I don’t know if that was possible. If not, I wanted to know I’d done everything I can. I wanted to know that you  _ knew _ what you were doing when you did it. I wanted you to know what your choice was, both because it seemed only fair to you, and because… and because damn it I don’t deserve this, Jane.”

“How can you ‘not deserve this’, this isn’t about you.” You say, keeping your voice level despite the fact that you want to show how angry you are about her making everything about her.

“It is about me, Jane!” She says, and then winces, because she’s just started yelling and she has a headache, “You made me a promise. You broke it. Fine, OK, that’s fucked up, but sometimes people you love hurt you and you  _ all  _ have to deal with the consequences of that. But… But you decided to avoid me. You decided not to let me express the fact that I was hurt. To me, that’s a really cowardly way of saying you don’t care about how I feel.”

“I do care how you feel!” Now it’s your turn to be mad, “That’s why I couldn’t deal with what you have to say. I’m terribly, horribly sorry if that costs everything we’ve had, but sometimes, the perfect is the enemy of the good, and sometimes you can’t stop bad things from happening. I’m doing what I can here, but you won’t listen to me and understand that!”

“I don’t even think the perfect and the good are at odds here, Jane. I think that it would be better for you to lose the job than to continue letting them string you along like this.”

“And then they’d be able to do whatever they want!”

“It’s clear they can do whatever they want anyway.” She sighs, “Let’s say they called on you to arm a terrorist group somewhere. What do you do? They’ll fire you if you don’t, but if you do, you’re now complicit in that.”

You sigh, “I don’t… I don’t know what else to do, Roxy! There is nothing I can do but be a pawn and hope that someday I find an out! The other option’s not  _ better _ \- the worst things still happen, and they are repeated forever without someone to stop them. If I don’t make this decision, someone worse will get to.”

“It’s not better to be strung along doing awful things until you find an out. If you don’t find an out this time, then you probably never will. Fuck, even if you find your out, after long enough, who will  _ you _ be in wielding power? It’s not like you can uncross lines - once you’ve done something it’s far easier to do again.”

“Do you think I don’t know that I probably never will, Roxy? I don’t have any choice here!”

“That’s never true.” Roxy says.

“I think we have nothing more to say on this matter.” You say, and then, bitingly.

“Is… is this the end?” Roxy asks.

“That’s your decision, Rox.” You say, “This is me. Take me or leave me.”

“Please tell me you’re looking for an out, at least.” She begs.

You shrug, “I still am and will be, but I think there’s just no way out for me. Roxy, if you still think I’m wrong when I do this, then once you're better, you should leave. I know you asked me if it was over, and I said it was up to you, but I do hope you’ll remember that you promised not to let me drag you down with me. I love you, and I don’t know if I’m strong enough to tell you to leave, but I don’t want you to be stuck with me if you really think I’m some kind of monster. I  don’t want to lose you, but I trust you, and I know you’ve always been my better half, so… I think I’m right about this, and I won’t be talked down, but if you really think I’m wrong, you should go, because of the two of us, you’re the better judge of people, and while I’m willing to take risks for what I think is right, I won’t ask you to come down with me.”

Roxy gives a sad half-smile, “Y’know, Janey, I meant it when I said it would hurt either way.”

You nod.

She continues, “Anyway, I’m not sure I’m staying until I get better. I promised I’d see Rose tomorrow evening, and that means catching an early train.”

“Rox, I think that’s a  _ very _ bad idea.” You say, “They said I needed to watch you for 24 hours, and an ‘early train’ probably conflicts with that.”

“But… it’s a holiday, Jane. I can’t not go home for-”

“Have you texted Rose today?” You interrupt, “Does she not know what happened?”

“She doesn’t.” Roxy confirms.

“Text her, and tell her what the doctor said, and then see what she has to say on the matter.”

“You know she’ll tell me not to go home.” Roxy says.

“Then don’t go home. I want to be alone for a bit, Rolal. I’ll check in on you in fifteen minutes, but let me know if your symptoms get worse.”

You head back to the kitchen, and uncover the dough. You set the oven to the temperature for the bread.. You wonder if Roxy is correct. You don’t want her to be, but she might have a point. You might not have done your due diligence. If you’re waiting for an opportunity to use your power to improve things, that means you have to be actively looking - passively waiting isn’t enough.  

On the other hand, you think, you’re not happy that Roxy feels the need to assert that there is always a way out, and you’re relatively concerned that this time, at least, you’ll be cornered. If that’s the case, you’ll likely lose her even for a thing that really isn’t your fault in any way other than following your conscience was your fault, and that pisses you off.

You coat one of your counters in flour, and punch the dough down. You cut it in two, forming the halfs into loaf shapes. It might be worth having one more fight with her, then, once you’ve done your due diligence. Once you have something to explain,  _ here are all the places I looked and I found nothing _ , then you’ll be able to make the case to her that she’s being unfair. You don’t know if she’ll listen or not, but if she thinks you’re worth taking a train ride across the country for, you think it’s worth giving her a chance to listen when everything goes wrong and you need her most. 

You take out a pair of loaf pans, grease them, and put the dough in there. If this goes wrong, it will be absolutely miserable, you realize. You hadn’t really thought about it, you’d been content to burn your bridges before, but you realize that, should you fail and Roxy refuse to listen, you’re looking at a future where you’re likely continuously forced to make morally questionable choices, likely without much in the way of support from anyone. You haven’t made a whole lot of friends here, after all, you’ve had to work so much, and you’ve been so different from your peers for so long, that you haven't been  _ able _ to forge real meaningful friendships. Roxy is your closest friend on Earth, and losing her would be awful.

Worse, you’ll do that without support. You can’t pretend your loneliness hasn’t made you easier to manipulate, more trusting than you should be. You were easily twisted into a pretzel, convinced you should use your skepticism against the few things you  _ should  _ have been learning from, rather than against the people trying to manipulate you. With the support of friends and other people listening to you, you might have done better, and you will have less support than ever before if things go badly with Roxy.

You put the bread in the oven. None of that matters now: the first thing you need to do is actually do the work to be able to explain why you can’t do anything here. But before that, you need to check in on Roxy like you promised.

“Rolal, you doing alright?” You stick your head into the other room, and Roxy hums an affirmation. You smile, “Alright, I’m going to go do some work.”

Roxy responds, “Sure, sure, whatev.” You notice that she’s playing something on her laptop, which…

“Remember to take breaks if focusing hurts!” You say.

“Alright, tightass, I’ll take care of myself.” She says, but she sounds more amused than condescended too, so you smile. You head up your main staircase - because you live alone in a two floor building, of course. When you moved down here, you bought a house because you had an obscene amount of money and you were convinced that you were supposed to live up to some dream of buying a large house, and you haven’t convinced yourself to sell it and buy something smaller in the city yet, even though it’s lonely. At least you’ll have a room to put Roxy up in for the night. 

You set your timer for half an hour, and start going over legal documents. You resolve to check on Roxy when the timer goes off, plus, you need to go remove your bread from the oven.  This is somewhat despondent work - with the amendments to the various documents detailing your power made over the past half a decade, your hands are tied far more than you expect, and when your  timer goes off, you’re no closer to an answer than when you started.

You head downstairs. Roxy is still playing something on her laptop, although it seems slower twitch than whatever she was playing before. 

“Hey, Jane, what should I name my Pidgey?”

“Are you… Are you playing a forty year old Pokemon game?” You ask. 

“Forty-Six. Well, forty five still for a couple more months.” She replies, “By the way, that’s way too long for a nickname!”

“I have no clue what you should name your bird, Roxy.” You reply, and apparently she smiles.

“My ‘bird’, huh? JaneCrocker has 11 letters, but I could misspell it so…”

“How did you turn naming a pidgey into hitting on me?” You say, sticking out your tongue. 

“Easily.” She smirks.

She’s definitely fine, so you go check on your bread. Of course, it looks wonderful, which is unsurprising, because making bread is easy, and is almost a waste of your talents. 

“Do I smell… bread?” Roxy asks, “Huh. You were really mad.”

You frown. She knows you well enough to know that bread means mad - that you only make it when you need something to take your anger out on, because otherwise you’d make something more complicated, but she still is considering leaving you. Moreover, you considered burning a bridge with her without trying to fully salvage it. This whole thing is a mess.

“Yep, it’s bread, and yes, I was mad.” You say, stepping out of the kitchen with your two loaves of bread, “If you want a piece of ‘Jane was really mad at you and is still a little bit peeved’ bread, I made two loaves, so it’s no skin off my nose.”

Roxy laughs slightly, “Man, and all I got for being upset was a ‘Roxy-is-mad-as-shit’ concussion.”

“Maybe if you drank less and baked more…” You tease. You’re trying to be more serious, but old habits die hard. 

“That’s not really funny, it’s a serious problem, Jane.” She says flatly.

_ Holy fucking shit _ . She has  _ never _ acknowledged that before, and… wow.

“I… Yes, it is, of course.” You say, “Sorry, yes, that was out of line.”

You stumble over the words, because you’re not sure what to say. You’re so  _ proud _ of her for admitting it, but you’re also stunned, because she’s never responded at all like that before. She’s told you to get off her case, but that’s different from pointing out that joking about it isn’t that funny.

“Oh, man, the look on your face.” She laughs, “I mean, it’s fair, that’s not how I expected to say that, either, but…”

You laugh, too. 

“Well, I’m proud of you for having said it, Roxy Lalonde.” You say, “I know we’re only partially not fighting right now, but is it okay if I hug you because I’m  _ really _ proud of you.”

She shrugs, “Sure, go ahead.”

You wrap her in a tight hug, and you realize that if everything goes wrong and this falls apart, you’re really going to miss this. It also makes you consider if maybe it’s worth losing the company to be with her. After all, if she has a problem, then your support could make her life better, even help her become sober! Ultimately, that might be a bigger change than you could ever make at the company.

That certainly provides an out.

You make a routine of this - going to check on Roxy, doing more work, making small talk with her. You’re not really making much in the way of progress actually solving the problems, but you’re certainly crossing off possibilities. Eventually, you lead Roxy upstairs to a guest room - you’ve never actually  _ used _ the guest room before, so it’s nice to get some use out of it. You let her sleep in there, and wake her once before you even go to bed. Just before the second time you wake her, you find something in the document  that might give you an out. It’s a slim chance, and nobody can ever know if you planned it or if it was just an accidental result of a choice to take a stand, but a slim chance is way better than no chance at all, and thus, it’s a chance worth taking.

No matter what happens, it’ll leave you with Roxy, and that’s part of what makes it so appealing.

“If the company’s share price drops more than 15% in the course of the week, the executive-in-training may fire the board and begin the process of selling off assets unilaterally” - There’s some legalize about how the technical ownership of the company is modified during that time. The whole thing is clearly intended as a save for  _ the board is inept and going to sink the company _ , but one that makes it deeply undesirable to use, only here, it becomes very desirable.

Particularly because it takes a week for the board to be able to finalize firing you, but it takes only twenty-four hours to finalize firing them. 

You walk over to the guest room and wake Roxy, since it’s time anyway.

“Blech, OK, yeah, I’m awake.” Roxy says groggily, “Can I roll over and go back to sleep now?”

“Sure, but you need to know something first: I have a plan.” You say with a smile.

“You going to elaborate?”

“Nope. I am going to go to my grave being the only person to know if I meant it to go this way, or if it was just an outcome I knew was possible and didn’t mind if it came to pass.” You smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: It's the ten days of return/repentance both irl and in story. That wasn't planned - we'd probably be done by now if I'd kept my original schedule, but it is a fun coincidence.
> 
> You should, by the way, finally be able to work out the exact calendar year from this chapter. I mean, I think you were already told when Yom Kippur was, so you probably could have calculated the year, but you definitely can from the pokemon game.
> 
> Oh! Also! The next chapter will take three weeks and not two. It is above 10k words, and I want to do some tight editing work on it because it's kind of where this piece lives or dies, in terms of being interesting and worthwhile.


	12. Chapter 11: [S] Jane: Take Charge // Everyone: Watch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's not actually any sound. I just imagined this as more like a flash panel and less like a set of panels when I wrote it.

You are Jane Crocker, and you wake up somewhat late that morning - You get to sleep uninterrupted after the last time you wake her, which means you get four hours of uninterrupted sleep. Roxy at least only had to roll back over every time you woke her, but you had to walk too and from her room, and so you lost a good 20 minutes trying to get back to sleep each time. Either way, it’s 10:30 when you get up, which is much later than you’d like to be awake today, but it’s still not too bad.

That’s really not the way you want to feel on a morning such as this, since this is perhaps the most important day of your life. You have to give a compelling presentation today, after all, and being exhausted will not help. Still, there’s nothing to do about it now.

You grab your laptop, and sit down next to Roxy on the couch.

You open your email client, and then start typing out an email.

 _To The Advisory Council,_  
  
_I regret to inform you that I cannot sign off on the September 20th Memorandum “Binding Finalized Ethics Document For Write Capabilities Of The TiarraTop”. I feel that the document is not sufficiently complete to warrant a final sign off, and I am deeply concerned that we are likely to wind up in substantial legal and moral jeopardy if we proceed as it is written._

_Sincerely,_

_Jane Crocker, CEO._

You embellish your title in the last line, but the whole thing is kind of self-righteous: It’s hardly the centerpiece of this plan, but coming off as unprepared probably helps you more than it hurts you here, since you want your “advisors” to not see what’s coming until the last moment.

“Hey, Rolal.” You smirk, “Want to see me set off a national news story?”

Roxy raises an eyebrow, “IDK, What are you doing?”

“I’m pressing the send button on an email, refusing to sign off on a document.”

“And that’s going to create a national news story?” She asks skeptically.

“It might spell the end of a decades old multinational corporation, too.” You smirk, and press send, “It’s done. I need to go change into something presentable and put on makeup. I have the feeling it’s going to be a long day.”

* * *

You are Dave Strider, and you are in English class when you receive an alert on your phone at 11:13 AM.

“Baking Heiress Jane Crocker to be fired from CrockerCorp.”

“Holy shit.” You’d been loosely following her for a while, because she’s relevant to your life now, apparently, and this was not a message you expected to read.

TG: rose holy shit did you just get that alert too  
TT: No, we don’t generally have the same interests, so I don’t know why I would

You send her the link, apparently a Charlotte Observer article.

TT: Holy fuck.  
TT: I’m going to text Roxy, hold on.

A few minutes pass while you wait for Rose’s response, and then

TT: Wow.  
TT: I’m speechless.  
TG: rose lalonde speechless  
TG: it is a special day indeed  
TT: Roxy’s harebrained plot to get the girl and save the day worked.  
TT: Apparently after she got wasted and almost broke her head open.  
TG: wait she what  
TT: Our sister is an idiot, Dave.  
TT: Our wonderful, clever sister apparently managed to convert a three foot dropoff of pavement in Cornelius into a near-lethal falling trap through the alchemy of anxious drinking.  
TG: holy shit  
TT: Our sister is a fucking idiot.  
TT: I mean, I’m not sure I get to say that, since what I had assumed was the stupidest plan I’d ever heard actually worked.  
TT: But she’s still kind of an idiot.  
TG: i’m glad she’s alive i guess  
TT: Yeah, me too. 

“Hey, Earth to Dave fucking Strider!” A voice next to you says, “Hey, dipshit, we need to form groups to talk about the goddamn book, so put your fucking phone down and pay attention!”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” You say, putting down your phone.

The book for the week was boring, so you and Karkat finish your discussion early.

“Hey, wanna come over to my place tonight? We can hang out and watch movies.” Karkat says, because of course, who doesn’t want to be friends with a coolkid like you. Plus, the two of you are pretty much cool now, so it makes sense.

“Fuck yeah.” You say, which honestly somewhat surprises you, since you’ve long been something of a loner. You just don’t have reason to be a recluse anymore: You don’t live with an absolute fucking psychopath who is a danger to your friends anymore, and you don’t have to hide the fact that you used to. You’d still rather nobody knew about Bro, and you’re kind of worried you’ll show some sign of abuse and Karkat will find out and be scared off and want nothing to do with you, but…

But that still assumes that having a friend is a worthwhile thing in the first place, and you can only lose what you already have, so yeah, actually, saying yes to Karkat is just fucking obvious, when you think about it.

* * *

You are Roxy Lalonde, and it’s 11:19 when Jane rushes you upstairs.

“Everything is about to get _very_ hectic.” She says as she shuts the blinds on the window, “Way more hectic than things already are. I’m going to have to leave for a bit, but I’ll be back in less than half an hour to check on you, I promise. If you start feeling worse, call me. I know I’m in the middle of something, but if you die because I focused too much on what I’m doing, I will fucking bring you back to life so that I can yell at you, you understand me?”

Jane Crocker is normally not an anxious woman. You’ve known her for some time: She can be high strung, certainly, but high strung is different from anxious. It’s one thing to hold impossible standards for yourself and for everyone around you, even if you sometimes hold bizarre standards that might let you get away with awful things and put yourself in awful positions because it _might_ be worth it some day. It’s another to be scared.

The first is her day to day life. The second is what she is right now. She’s scared, and that’s unnerving to you. So you nod, even though you want to say that you’ll just call an ambulance, which is what she'd do anyway, and then text her, because that would give her more space to handle things. Anything not to throw her off her game. Then, you consider for a moment, and ask, “Babs, would it help if I offered you a hug?”

She doesn’t even wince when you call her ‘Babs’, which is unnerving, because even you find ‘babs’ pretty irritating, and then she nods, “I’d like that a lot right now, Rolal.”

You hug her. She smells like dough and coffee, and while you miss the way she used to smell when she also had the vague hint of mud to her back when she played at being a detective, you find that even the smell she has now is comforting. You realize as you both relax into the hug that you were really stressed, too, which you suppose makes sense. You have no idea what’s going on, but everything is going down really fast.

She only lets you hold her for fifteenish seconds before she lets go, and reluctantly, you let go, too. She nods at you, “Alright, I hate to be a bad host, but stay up here. You don’t want the paparazzi to see you, because you don’t want to know the kinds of things they’ll say about you, and I don’t want them to see you, because I don’t want them to say those things about you and also because it would absolutely ruin my plans given what it would say about me and my trustworthiness.”

She seems to realize after a moment that that’s actually a pretty nasty insult, so she hastily adds a, “I don’t mean that you’re a bad person, Roxy, but I’m about to be walking an incredibly fine tightrope and any whiff that I might have a secret would be destructive, and ‘she has a secret alcoholic insert seven other negatively connotated but true statements about you girlfriend’ would be a hell of a secret right now.’”

You nod, “Knock ‘em dead.”

As she walks out, you decide that you’re still kind of insulted, but that she’s also right. It’s hard to argue that there aren’t a lot of things that someone could say about you that would really burn. She’s not wrong that any reasonable person snooping on you would decide that you had a drinking problem, and, while she didn’t say it, you imagine that the tabloids would also include the word “slut” several times, and the more reputable papers would probably just sub in the word “controversial”.

You don’t want to have to see that, so you stay put where you are. Still, you don’t want to have to sit here absolutely without knowing what’s going on, so you set up a stream to one of the business channels.

There's a ten minutes of speculation about what could possibly be going on: was Jane Crocker stealing money? Did she have some secret? Was she just incompetent? A few ‘experts’ are brought on, some of which point out that just being born into a company doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll be any good at running it. You have to resist punching the screen - firstly, this is your only laptop, and secondly, just because they’re wrong about Jane doesn’t mean the statement is wrong in the general form. It’s certainly harder than normal to restrain your temper, though, and you realize it’s probably because, on top of sleeping poorly, you’re fully, genuinely sober right now.

That’s a weird thought. Before you can be pulled too deep into the _holy shit I’m not currently drunk_ train of thought, the TV hosts seem to perk up.

 _Don’t fuck this up, Janey_ You think, although technically, that bit of wishing her well is a little silly, since obviously she’s already either fucked this up or not.

“And we have a statement from Jane Crocker.” One of the hosts says, which you could have told by the change in their body language, although you suppose you have the advantage over the rest of the world of knowing that Jane Crocker just left to do something. “We managed to get an exclusive video interview with her, and… well, let’s just play part of it now.”

The screen changes to a grainier video, and you realize that the picture is of Jane, sitting downstairs, on the couch you napped on yesterday afternoon. The grainy picture is probably her laptop’s camera, then: she always had cheap webcams, since she never had much use for a nicer one.

“I probably will take legal action if they don’t retract the document by tomorrow afternoon. It’s almost certainly against the contract, even in the distorted version they’ve created, for them to have fired me for refusing to sign off on a document that almost certainly would have obligated some of our workers to break the law. I’d file the paperwork now, but I’m somewhat concerned that what would be revealed in the process would destroy the company.”

You know she’s lying somewhat. She moves her left hand in a way that’s stereotypical of someone using her hands for emphasis, but you know that when she’s genuine she doesn’t do that. She taps her fingers together when she gets a question she’s not sure what the best lie for is, and she pauses just a third of a second longer than she normally would on starting her answer.

You also know that no one else on earth would know that. It’s weird, watching the same video the world is watching, and seeing it so differently, but that’s precisely what is happening. A moment later, they return to commentary, and the speculation has changed.

“She says what the files reveal could destroy the company. Given they recently released their earnings report, do you think the file she refused to sign falsified that?”

The speculation continues, _is the company losing money? Do they have debts they’re hiding?_ You don’t know what Jane’s game is, but you suspect she must have missed. After all, this is all disastrous for the company. But she walks upstairs with a smirk on her face, and says, “How are you doing, Roxy?”

“I... You realize they’re speculating the company is going to fail, right?”

“Oh, I know.” She replies, with a mysterious smile, “I’ll take that as an ‘I’m fine.’ Can’t spend too long up here until 4:00, I need to be generally visible from one of the windows, somebody might catch on I’m hiding something. I’ll check on you in 45 minutes. Again, if you start feeling bad, call me. I know it might give up the game, but you’re really important.”

* * *

You are Rose, and at 12:15, you’ve officially gotten bored of tracking what’s going on with your sister’s best friend’s company, because while it’s an intense story, you really don’t understand Jane’s ploy (only that she clearly _has_ such a ploy) and to be honest, you were never close enough to Jane to care on her behalf alone. It’s a car wreck, but it’s not really _your_ car wreck, so it gets boring to watch pretty fast.

You do have more important things to do. Namely, scheduling a time for your date with Kanaya, since you didn’t do that yesterday, and you and she were so busy with “oh shit we have to fix this” two days ago to realize that you needed to actually _schedule_ a date if you wanted to have one.

TT: Does Thursday work for our next date?  
GA: That Works Fine For Me.  
GA: A Family Friend Runs An Alternian Food Restaurant Would You Like To Go There?  
TT: Two questions:  
TT: 1) There are Alternain restaurants on Earth and I never heard of them?  
TT: 2) If it’s a family friend’s place, would it be weird to take a date there?  
GA: For Your First Question Yes There Are A Small Handful  
GA: There Aren’t That Many Trolls But Humans Love Novelty And What Could Be A Better Novelty Than Food That Is Like This Was Once Served In A Distant Star System?  
GA: As For The Other Question Most Trolls Are Family Friends  
GA: I Have A Big Family And They Were Pretty Central To The Event That Ended In Trolls Being On Earth  
GA: Most Trolls Are Thus Family Friends In The First Place Or At Least Most Troll Families Know Of Other Troll Families  
GA: It Will Be No Weirder Than Any Time Two Trolls Date And They Go To Any Restaurant That Another Troll Owns  
TT: I suppose that makes sense.  
TT: Well, as a human, I do love novelty ;)  
TT: So count me in.  
GA: That Was Not Intended As An Insult  
TT: I know.  
TT: I’ll admit, I think the human tendency towards xenophilia is perhaps the only trait that prevents our rampant countervailing xenophobia from leading to an impossibility of cultural contact.  
TT: Being reminded that I have such a trait is not an insult.  
GA: Well I Am Glad To Have Complimented You Then  
GA: Although I Think The Human Tendency Toward Xenophilia And The Human Tendency Towards Xenophobia Aren’t As Universally Opposed As You’d Like To Imply  
GA: There Were Men Who Supported My Mother’s Torture Who Later Would Eat At Alternian Restaurants.  
GA: Still I Don’t Mean To Imply That They Are The Same Either  
GA: But I Do Think You Should Know For Instance That While There Are Reasons I Like You And Even Reasons I Tend Toward Trusting You That Your Crush On Me Alone Does Not Mean That I Will Ignore It If You Start Behaving In Obviously Speciest Ways.  
TT: That’s fair. I hardly meant to imply any of that, but I guess what I said could be used to defend someone saying that.  
TT: I’m not going to use you as a justification to say “I have troll friends”, I promise.  
GA: Just Making Sure  
GA: I Look Forward To Seeing You Thursday  
GA: Although I Guess I Will See You Tomorrow As Well  
TT: No. I’ll miss class tomorrow.  
TT: Yom Kippur is kinda a big deal **™**  
GA: Is That Tomorrow?  
TT: Technically, it’s in 6 and a half hours.  
GA: Uh  
GA: Have An Easy Fast I Think?  
GA: Am I Doing This Right?

* * *

Your name is Jane Crocker, and it is 3:58 PM. Your company's stock is down 14% day over day, which is fine - it was down 2% over the week anyway at the start of the day, having started the week at 413.09. You frown a little that you’re rooting against your own hard work, but you guess sometimes you have to do that.

It’s funny, though. Five years ago, you looked at that number, did some math, and then did the math again, because the company couldn’t possibly be worth that much, and your 60% equity share couldn’t possibly be worth that much. It had been. Now, the company has doubled in value since then, and here you are, hoping to lose millions and millions of dollars, more money than you understand, off of an even bigger amount of money you can’t fathom.

3:59. Still down enough. You open the clock so you can see seconds.They pass by - the stock price has been ticking up for a while now, since about 2:30, but it mostly levelled out. It just has to close down 15%.

You wonder if you could have prevented this. If you’d paid attention sooner, you might have had a chance to stop one or two rules from going through, might have had time to win allies before everything imploded. If only you had listened to Roxy, maybe you could walk away with the whole company and your conscience.

At 3:59:25, it ticks up to 12.5% day over day. (352.28)

You have a moment's panic - are you going to walk away with nothing? You have more week left, but the faster things go against you, the more substantive a counterattack can be leveled. You might well have to wind up fighting either 1) a legal battle you’ll almost certainly lose or 2) walk away, and allow terrible things to happen.

You want Roxy here. You want her hand on your shoulder, but you’re 25% sure that she hates you, and 50% sure that she doesn’t like you, 20% sure that she’s mad at you and will never fully forgive you even if she likes you, and the last five percent thinks she’s super mad at you but might forgive you.

At 3:59:45, it ticks back down to 12.9% day over day - the last 6 days adding a 2.2% - barely below 15% week over over, but still, still below 15% week over week. (350.634)

You suck in a deep breath.

Half of what you own.

This will cost you half of what you own.

Is it worth it?

3:59:50. Down 13.0% (350.24)

Of course it’s worth it.

3:59:51. Down 12.9% (350.71)

You don’t need that much money. You can lose most of the company, 59% of it, and still live comfortably for the rest of your life. You could lose 99% of it and never worry about money again. It’s not that serious a thing to lose.

3:59:52. Down 12.9% (350.73)

You’re going to save thousands of people from having their minds manipulated. This is ethically essential.

3:59:53: Down 12.6%. (351.95)

Of course, if you fail, you suppose, you’ll walk away with nothing. But you weren’t bluffing about court: If push comes to shove, discovery will reveal what’s happening. If that’s true, you’ll get a chance to destroy some of the harm. You might have to get a real job, but it’s not like you won’t have an excellent business degree. At the very least, you’re not going to starve, not least of which because you still have a not-small severance pay, by the contact.

3:59:54 Down 12.6% (351.97)

But you’ll be honest: You wanted to run this company. You’ve spent years learning how to do it. Even if you’d won, and it looks like you’re going to lose, you’d have lost a LOT of what you were trained to run.

3:59:55 Down 12.6% (351.92)

You were good at it, damn it! You are ready for this, you’re good at it, you had so many ideas, so many plans, and you have to give all of it up. You’re a little mad at Roxy - she made you feel like you had to give up what you’d spent years learning to run.

3:59:56 Down 12.6% (351.79)

That’s not fair, though. She was _right_ . You _did_ have to give this up. You just wish it had turned out in your favor - you wish you had won. But losing is better than where you were headed. Being good at something doesn’t make it a good thing to do.

3:49:57, Down 12.7% (351.54)

And this is your fault, anyway. You were outmaneuvered at every turn. You never listened to Roxy earlier, and you had to listen to her now, when it was obvious at the stakes were everything. Just because you ignore someone’s warnings doesn’t mean that when you have to sacrifice a lot to save your own conscience, that you have to sacrifice EVERYTHING to save your own conscience, that it’s their fault.

3:59:58, Down 12.8% (351.13)

Which is, you note, is down 15% rounded, but you’re looking for down actually fifteen percent or more. This one is your fault. You almost grab your sketch pad for the next fight - you need to figure out who can help you with legal matters - you can find someone, surely, and you’re not giving up.

3:59:59, down 12.7%. (351.39)

You’re going to lose everything, and you’ve accepted that.

4:00:00, down 12.8%. (351.12)

For a moment, you reach toward your notepad, before you realize something.

That’s .01 points lower than it was last time the number was rounded to 12.8%. That’s actually, genuinely 15%.

You have what you need.

That sinks in for a moment.

You’re going to lose a LOT. But you’re not going to lose everything.

The rule said that it had to be at days close, and it is the days close. That’s fine, you’d have probably had to wait for close anyway - otherwise they might have pumped the stock if it was possible, actually. That’d be illegal, of course, but all involved will claim that they absolutely didn’t mean to modify any prices, and all of you will find some way of having plausible deniability - in your case, it’s just that you can claim you didn’t _care_ , because you won in the perverse case the stock fell. It would be illegal to intentionally influence such an event, but feeling free to tell the truth because it couldn’t _hurt_ you? That was a whole different matter. After all, wanting to tell the truth is legal, so feeling freed to tell it is fine.

You copy an email you wrote earlier, noting the close down more than fifteen percent, and pointing out that, in this instance, it allowed you to dissolve the board.

 _As a result_ the final line says, _You are all fired as of 4:02 PM tomorrow, and the sale of assets begins the next day. I wish all of you luck in whatever jobs you are employed in next._

_Sincerely,_

_Jane Crocker._

You send out a second statement, this one prepared for the media, just saying that you had fired the board, and that this would happen chronologically before the decision to fire you, and that you would send out the way the sale would go early tomorrow afternoon.

And then, you walk up the stairs, open the Charlotte Observers website, and put your phone in Roxy’s hand, and with a smile, “Is that good enough?”

* * *

You are Dave Strider, and you’re on your way over to Karkat’s house when you get the second notification blast.

 _Crocker Corp CEO fires board, begins selling off company_.

You are taken a little bit aback. Can she do that? As you read the attached article, you learn that, yes, apparently, in a very small handful of cases, she can, and in this instance, she has.

You’re a little mad that she’s strung your sister along for so much of this crap. Roxy isn’t perfect, but she deserves better, and if Jane had a way out, she should have taken it. You get a message from your other sister about as you finish the article - she’s always been a slightly faster reader than you.

TT: Did you see the news?  
TG: yes  
TG: kinda pissed at jane tbh  
TG: if she had a way out all this time and she’s been stringing roxy along  
TG: that’s not cool  
TT: I don’t know if this was a viable option always, Dave.  
TG: wait you’re defending her now  
TT: I suppose I am.  
TG: eh you're probably right  
TT: I usually am  
TG: except you’re admitting you were wrong before about jane  
TT: No, she did exactly what I said she would.  
TT: And Roxy got hurt as a result!  
TT: But I’m glad she found a way to make things better because Roxy deserves something nice to happen to her.  
TT: And it’s good to know that her belief in Jane wasn’t entirely without purpose.  
TG: i don’t think jane is responsible for roxy getting wasted and hurting herself  
TG: don’t get me wrong i think this whole thing could have gone way better  
TG: but roxy hurting herself is on her.  
TT: I guess.

Your conversation ends there, because your bus reaches its stop. You step off the bus, and follow the directions to Karkat’s house. It’s not a long walk, but by the end, your hands are visibly shaking, and you can hear your own breath come fast.

It’s partly that you still don’t trust Karkat. It’s partly that you never really had an in person friend before, except kind of Dirk, and he’s your brother. You’ve had acquaintances, but friends in person were always straight out. It didn’t help that you were always kind of a weird kid in the first place, but largely, not being able to hang out in your house because it was literally full of your guardian’s weird porn and literal fucking swords in the fridge, and not being able to hang out away because he forbade you that meant you couldn't have much in the way of friends.

You knock on the door.

Your heart races - what if this is a prank? This could be a prank. He could do all kinds of cruel things! He could shame you on the internet, he could call all his friends and make fun of you, he could-

The door swings open, and Karkat steps into view.

“Are you OK? You look like you’re about to flip the fuck out.”

“I’m fine.” You say, schooling your expression back to the poker face you used to use around Bro. You can’t slow your breathing, you were never able to do that, but you can manage to hide the obvious signs of emotion.

“You’re obviously fucking not.” He replies, “I… get in here, and then tell me what’s going on, or just tell me you don’t want to talk about it, but don’t pretend it’s fine, and don’t give me that weird expression where you pretend you don’t have feelings.”

You step inside, carefully suppressing a frown. Maybe Rose is right. Maybe you should just explain what is going on.

“I-” You begin, but beyond the word _I_ , you don’t know how to start this. You push through, and it comes out in an incomprehensible rush, “I had a really shitty home situation as a kid and so I never had any friends and I know it’s not cool to talk about that kind of shit and it makes me seem like a loser but it’s true and I can’t always say a lot of shit about my internal experiences and shit  and any kind of talking about feelings and shit is really hard and this is impossible I mean Bro, no it’d probably make more sense if I call him my guardian because he isn’t actually my brother anyway he used to make me sword fight him if I gave away I was having one fucking emotion and never having any friends is really scary when you’re suddenly 18 and all the people you know have normal, developed personalities and I just don’t, right, I’ve never had a friend in my life and so I have no idea how to be friends and I can’t stop thinking that you’ll do something to hurt me on purpose because every time anyone has ever been nice to me when they weren’t family or some shit they did, I mean, even you did it kind of when you made fun of me for talking to myself, and it’s awful and I don’t know how to trust people so please don’t make me express emotion Karkat I’m better at it than I used to be but when I’m scared I can’t do that and _this_ is impossible all by itself.”

Karkat just stands there, with his mouth open. You expect him to start laughing. He doesn’t. You almost run off. If it weren’t that you were too scared to even flee, you would.

“Ok. Cool. Question.” He says.

“Yes?” You say, your face a flat calm. It’s the flattest calmest flat calm you’ve ever managed, like the flat calm got crushed by the weight of an entire placid lake, and at the same time was a calmness vampire that sucked all the calm out of that lake. You look _so_ calm.

“Can I fucking kill your parents?”

“No.” You reply, “Mom wasn’t a part of this at all, she just had custody of the other two kids and was a mess throughout much of my childhood and had no ability to contact us, and… Bro is 1) still in Houston, and 2) I think he’s been properly handled.”

“He’s dead already?” Karkat guesses.

“No, but he knows he’s dead if he ever sets foot in New York.” You say.

“Alright.” Karkat says, “Well, uh...  hey, if I’m doing something that makes you particularly scared, please let me know? I don’t want to always be the douchewaffle who is making things worse, OK?”

You laugh at ‘douchewaffle’, and then shrug, “I’ll do my best. I _just_ told you how it’s hard for me to express emotion when I’m scared.”

Karkat nods, “Alright. I’m sorry I was such a globefondling ignoramus before.”

You sigh, “It can’t really be undone now.”

Karkat leads you in through a second door (he has two doors and a tiny space in between, which is _super_ weird, but they keep a lot of shoes there.) You notice that the house is pretty chilly, like the insulation is bad or something. He leads you across the room and points out the television and asks you if you want to watch something or play a video game.

You tell him you’re down to watch something, because even though you know he knows you’re scared, you’re pretty sure it’d be obvious you’re still scared if you played anything. He puts on a _really shitty romcom_ , which you have to admit that you’re not a big fan of, but… he does this thing where he becomes running commentary, and you wonder momentarily how this kid thought he had any room to talk about you talking to yourself.

Either way, you find his commentary fascinating. It’s a human rom-com (he says he “doesn’t want to fucking explain fucking quadrants again right now”, which you’re totally down with because you don’t really want to try to wrap your head around that again right now), and he spends the entire time making fun of human romantic norms, which is actually pretty funny, because you are both always down to make fun of sappy romantic bullshit and his commentary is actually insightful in some ways you wouldn’t expect, even if his proposed solutions don’t necessarily always solve the problems.

The movie ends and you order pizza and play video games, and honestly, having a friend is nice. It’s really, really nice, and you manage to relax before the night is over, because he’s being _nice_ to you, which is super weird, because he’s not even nice to himself.

* * *

Your name is Roxy Lalonde, and Jane Crocker has just handed you a phone.

“Is that good enough?” She asks.

You read the headline.

It’s the same as it was earlier today.

“Janey, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be seeing.”

Jane turns the phone around. She sighs, and refreshes it, and hands it back to you.

_CrockerCorp Dissolved!_

“I can’t believe it took them longer to get a new headline up than it took me to walk up the stairs.” She says, “I just fucking dissolved a multinational corporation and I can’t even get a dramatic entrance in here!”

You snicker. “Totes. That’s a massive injustice, Jane. You wanna tell me what happened? Because I’m hoping you haven’t had this power all along.”

She shakes her head, “No, the share price had to fall of a cliff before I could to this. I was prepared to actually have the legal battle, but I vastly prefer this outcome.’

“Alright.” You pause a moment. You don’t want to tell her she is forgiven if she’s not, “That is good. I think it might be good enough. I don’t know. I’m still upset that I had to take a train across the country to convince you to do this, but… I think, given what you’ve just given up in the process, I can forgive you.”

Jane smiles, “Excellent.”

She stands there for a moment, and you sit still. You don’t know what comes next. You really don’t. You were angry at her, but you forgave her. You told her you loved her - does your forgiveness mean that survives what’s happened? Is it that kind of forgiveness? Or is it the kind of forgiveness that just saves a friendship, but still makes acting on being in love ill-advisable? What does _her_ future look like? If you still are willing to act on loving her, what does the new future she has dictate for your mutual futures?

A lot of those are questions that are probably still up in the air, and you don’t know if now is the time or place to broach any of them. So she stands there, awkwardly, and you sit there, awkwardly, and you try to keep the blush out of your face because now that everything isn’t falling apart forever, you’re reminded that she’s actually _really_ cute.

Luckily for your train of thought, she breaks the silence.

“So, this is a weird thing to ask, but I’d really like to get away from here for a while, because I hate the times when I’m a major celebrity. Do you think, some night, we could sneak out, take a train to NY and... do you think I could stay at your house for a while?” She asks.

You nod, “I’ll send a text home. I’m not travelling until after sunset tomorrow, for the obvious reason, but I’m pretty sure that should be OK. How do you plan on getting us there without getting found out?”

Jane smirks, “The crowds should thin and by tomorrow night, so we should be able to sneak out without being seen, and then… remember when I used to drag you into wearing shitty disguises as a child?”

You laugh, “Yes, but I don’t see how that helps.”

“It’s simple: We do that, but with good disguises.”

You laugh.

You eat a large meal around 6:00, after searching to make sure it’s OK to fast with a concussion (yes - it might be neuroprotective?) and if it’s OK to fast during alcohol withdrawal (possibly not - you’ll stop fasting if you start feeling any major withdrawal symptoms.)

After you finish eating, you send off a series of texts to Dirk.

TG: hey dirk  
TG: dont tell jane i said this  
TG: bc i don’t want to get her hopes up  
TG: but

The next message freezes on your fingers. It’s one thing to say “I have a problem”, and to think “I should stop.” It’s another to say “I’m going to stop.”

And then, are you going to stop? What if you fail? Wouldn’t it be worse to fail if you’ve told someone? Can you handle how disappointed you’re sure Dirk will be if you fail? Should you just try, and not tell anyone?

TT: Uh, Roxy?  
TT: You still there?  
TG: sorry gimme a moment this is fucking hard

That probably gives it away, doesn’t it?

You still have to say it.

Your fingers freeze again, but then you take a deep breath, type it out, one letter at a time.

Do you want to send this? You absolutely don’t. You take a deep breath, count to three, look away, and press send.

TG: i think im going to stop drinking

And then it’s out there, and you are scared, but also kind of free, like now you’ve said it, and nothing you’ll ever say will be harder. So you keep talking, because it was liberating, and maybe saying the rest will be liberating, too.

TG: i know its a problem  
TG: i know everybody probably thinks im dumb for waiting this long  
TG: tb totes h i feel pretty dumb for waiting this long  
TT: I don’t know what “everybody” thinks.  
TT: I do know that I am proud of you.  
TG: u don’t have to patronize me dirky  
TG: i know i fucked up  
TT: I’m not patronizing you, Rox.  
TT: You did fuck up.  
TT: But you’re the only one of us who decided to act without massive intervention from someone else.  
TT: It seems like the rest of us are all wringing our hands about the things that are problems in our lives.  
TT: We’re all too proud to do anything, or insist on suffering in silence.  
TT: Jane backed herself into a corner and won’t admit it’s a problem until her best friend / love interest took a train halfway across the country to yell at her.  
TT: I’m still not taking mom’s money even though I could, because that would mean accepting that someone else has control of me.  
TT: Jake is still too “manly” to accept that if you start college with a mediocre education, you probably need more help than other students.  
TT: So yes: I’m proud of you, Roxy.  
TG: i wish i could feel the same.  
TT: Everyone is always their own harshest critic, Rox.  
TG: i just  
TG: the rest of u grew up  
TG: and im starting to realize that ive been a child this whole time  
TG: not literally obviously  
TG: but i never grew more independant  
TG: if anything i grew more dependent  
TG: i think when i was 16 i would have probably been ok with being this far from home  
TG: i mean not today  
TG: but in general  
TG: now it’s scary and exciting and new  
TG: and im 21  
TG: how fucked up is it that im 21 and this is the first time ive ever left home for more than a day alone?  
TG: how fucked up is it that ive never held my own job?  
TG: how fucked up is it that im still at a god damn community college  
TG: u moved out and moved across the country to get away from our monster of a father  
TG: janey took the offer and moved away from her parents at 16  
TG: i mean i guess jake is still with his family  
TG: but he fucking works because otherwise they wouldn’t be able to keep the house  
TG: he’s not so much dependant as interdependent  
TG: and in the middle of that im a child  
TG: i just  
TG: i hate this  
TG: everyone else grew up and im a fucking kid  
TG: and i had to get stuck hundreds of miles from home on yom kippur to realize it  
TG: fuck ur like i wring my hands  
TG: but u made a fucking hard decision dirk  
TT: I ran, Roxy.  
TT: I left my little brother behind and I fucking ran.  
TT: He needed me and I ran.  
TT: Don’t pretend that I’m some fucking epic hero.  
TT: Someone needed me, someone was dependent on me.  
TT: And I fucking ran!  
TG: he told u to run tho  
TG: it was the best for both of u.  
TT: Was it?  
TG: kids in school now  
TG: would he have been if u didn’t run?  
TG: keeping in mind that it took u a year to get into school  
TT: Kid has scars all over his body now.  
TT: New ones, not just the old ones.  
TT: The kid has a fucking scar under his eye.  
TT: The facial scars?  
TT: All of them are new.  
TG: and he’s safe now  
TG: and he has a roof over his head  
TT: Maybe you’re right.  
TT: Maybe this is better.  
TT: I guess I understand how you’re feeling.  
TT: But you’re the one of us who does things for reasons other than the threat of a sword to the face or the opportunity to be a billionaire.  
TT: So I have faith that you’ll do something about it.  
TG: maybe ur right  
TG: now that i see it its hard not to  
TG: seeing the stakes in janes world its hard not to feel like im really not good enough for her  
TG: but i feel like i have to do something about that  
TT: It’s easy to feel insufficient, Rox.  
TT: But it’s probably important to remember that she didn’t do the things she did today just on her own agency.  
TT: Left to her own devices, she would have only worked herself deeper into the corner.  
TT: You’re probably the best thing that’s ever happened to her.  
TG: maybe  
TT: She’d agree with me.  
TG: yeah but she’s biased lol  
TG: thanks for listening  
TT: No problem.  
TT: Glad you’re going to work on getting sober.

* * *

You are Dirk Strider, and Roxy has just closed your conversation.

It was good to hear from her, and it was better to hear that she is getting sober. Your phone buzzes again. This time, it’s Dave.

TG: hey dirk  
TG: is it ok if i spend the night at karkat’s house?  
TT: You’re an adult.  
TT: You don’t have to ask me, just give me a heads up so I don’t have to worry you’ve gone missing.  
TT: Which is to say, absolutely.  
TG: good

You smile at your phone. Today has brought incredible news. Roxy getting sober is amazing, everyone who knew her was worried, and it’s nice to know that she’s at least trying to address things. Moreover, while it’s clear that she’s sad, her wanting to be more independent and free is probably good: you think that she’s wasting her potential on some level, and if she thinks so too, she’s seems like to work harder and do better.

And Jane won her long struggle for control of the company she inherited, even if it was in the destruction of that company. That’s huge. You wish she’d done it for herself and not for Roxy, because you want her to be making choices for herself, but if she is just choosing people who care about her to make those choices for her, that’s at least a start.

And this? Dave spending an evening out of the house? Dave being so excited to be around someone that he doesn’t come home for an evening?

That’s huge for a ton of reasons. It shows him growing up well, taking on being his own person and making his own choices and it also shows him leaving his shell. He spent his whole childhood mostly friendless, and him having a good enough friend that he wants to spend the night at his friends house can only be good for his development.

And it can only be good for his happiness. You know how much being lonely can suck, and if he’s finally going to have friends that aren’t his family, maybe he can avoid the worst of that shit.

This is all good. Everything is well with your friends, and so everything is well with the world.

You fingers hover over the text button for your mother’s number in the phone. Giving up control like this is humiliating, it’s terrifying.

But if all the people you love are being brave, then you should, too.

DS: Mom, you know how you said you’d be willing to provide money for Dave and my education?  
DS: Dave and I are tight on money this month. I mean, we’ve been tight on money every month.  
DS: I would immensely appreciate your help.

Your life is going to get better. But right now, your brain is screaming at you that it is only going to get worse.

You take a deep breath, and remind yourself that, in the lives of all the people you love, everything’s well.

* * *

You are is Jane Crocker, and it’s about 9:00 on the 24th. You and Roxy are leaving in 15 minutes to catch 10:00 PM train, which, of course, means you’re figuring out a disguise. But first, you grab a fake mustache and your detective’s hat.

“Roxy, look at me, I’m Inspector Jacques Clouseau!” You giggle.

Roxy laughs, “The tabloids will never determine otherwise.”

You laugh, and take off the shitty disguise. Then, you take out a makeup kit.

Your focus is to keep yourself recognizably the person on your ID, but not immediately recognizable to a camera. Then, you put on a hoodie to hide your hair. Yours barely fits - you’ve put on weight since you moved down here. Roxy offers you hers, and you laugh.

“Rox. You are tall and thin. I am short and fat.” She looks like she’s about to object, and you glower at her, like ‘don’t fucking pretend I’m not’. She shuts up, and you continue, “Nothing you wear is going to fit me.”

Once you’re done, you just hope nobody catches a good glimpse of your face. Luckily, the paparazzi left at some point this evening. You kept your blinds drawn today, so that Roxy could move around - you only left them open yesterday because you wanted to give no excuse to publish something negative about you.

“Rox, you ready?” You ask. She nods, and you grab your bags and rush to the rented car. You have your own, of course, but if you don’t move your car, no one will be able to track you to the train station and then to New York.

Once you’re in the car, you and Roxy laugh. You feel like you are thirteen again, sneaking out of the house so you can catch a movie despite your father grounding you for something or other. The nostalgia digs deep into your bones, and you become grateful that you’ve made the plans you did.

The car drives you to the train station, and you get out, and present your tickets, and get on the train.

You go to the compartment your reserved together, and put your stuff away.

“Jane, earlier, when we were talking, you looked really upset when I was about to say that you weren’t fat. Why?” Roxy says.

So you _are_ having this conversation.

“Because I _am_ fat.” You sigh, “It’s fine. It’s not something I’m ashamed of. But when you say I’m not like that’s supposed to be reassuring, it’s actually upsetting, because you’re saying what I am isn’t good enough.”

“But of course you’re good enough! You’re incredibly beautiful!” She says.

“I know you’re attracted to me, Roxy.” You smile sadly, “I want you to act like you’re attracted to me and not some other person. Because I know what I look like. I know better than anyone else - I’ve seen me naked, and every time I look in the mirror I’m looking at me. You can’t say either of those things about me.”

“I’ve seen you _almost_ naked.” Roxy points out with a waggle of her eyebrows.

“Not the time.” You say, but you smile, because it was funny.

“Fine, fine.” Roxy laughs, “And you’re right, you’re really pretty the way you are, and I don’t need to pretend you’re things you aren’t to admit that.”

“Thank you.” You smile.

There’s a pause, and then, Roxy almost-whispers in a nervous tone, “So, uh… What is your plan from here?”

“Short term, I’m going to buy as much of the company as I can with the shares of the money I get from the early sales, particularly, I’m going to focus on a few parts that have significant ethical issues - things like the parts of the company that have the worst labor records, or the worst polluters. Some of those I will outright sell, piece by piece, asset by individual asset, although I’ll try not to make too many people unemployed in the process. At least one of them, I’ll put certain limitations on the product, but I’ll continue it’s development because it’s absolutely amazing.

Medium term, I already have enough credits to graduate, I just wasn’t allowed to fully inherit until the end of this year, and that’s out the window, so I’m going to graduate. And then I’m going to move up to New York, because North Carolina is lonely and I miss my family and my friends and I can manage the company I wind up building from what I buy from a distance for the most part, which means I’ll have to buy up some of the New York branch and then move the headquarters.”

Roxy visibly brightens, then bites her lip.

“To be very clear, you’re not moving up for me, are you?” She asks, “Because I love you, Janey, I totes do, but I don’t want you to damage your future for me.”

You shake your head, “You’re part of it, but only in so far as you’re part of my connection to other people. I miss my friends. I felt so isolated and being isolated only made me make worse decisions. I never made friends down there because everyone at the company saw me as a means to an end and everyone in the business world didn’t take me seriously and everybody at the university had a completely different life from me.”

Roxy brightens still more, “Well, uh, good!”

You smile back. You’re glad that she’s glad to have you home, even after all the shit you put her through.

* * *

You are Rose Lalonde, and today, Thursday the 25th, is your date. You’re pacing, because you _know_ this is your last chance to make a good impression. You’re dressed nicely, maybe too nicely, if the place you're going is a casual sitdown place, but you know that Kanaya will be dressed up as well, so it’s fine.

You get in the car five minutes earlier than you planned to: You’re just so nervous that you can’t help yourself. You hate that you can’t control how you feel right now, the giddy feeling in your gut threatening to consume the last of your ability to think. You’re only hanging on by the fact that you’re pretty sure this will go well, because all the other times you’ve hung out with Kanaya have gone well.

When you show up, she’s wearing a nearly all green and black dress.

“You are early.” She teases, “I almost did not have time to prepare!”

“Well, you know how it is.” You smirk, “You get a chance to take a pretty girl on a date, it’s hard to wait a moment longer than you absolutely have to.”

Her cheeks take on a faint green tint, and you smirk. You can’t help but internally acknowledge that you are smooth as fuck. It takes her a moment to recover from being flustered, but she eventually returns with, “Well then, you should consider that I had no choice but to wait for your arrival, so therefore I wonder why you did not arrive sooner, if you are aware that it is hard to wait for a pretty girl on a date.”

It’s your turn to blush slightly - it’s another example of “bounces off me, sticks to you”, which you’ve always felt was the lowest form of repartee, but it’s still flattering, and you are off your game more than a little because of the nerves.

Either way, you have a response, “Well, I had to be ready. I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to compare to how well you dressed up, because you actually have a fashion sense” Kanaya laughs at that, “so it took me a little extra time.”

“Well, your outfit isn’t a disaster, so…” Kanaya smirks, “I suppose it paid off. You know, sometime, you should let me dress you up.”

“Are you looking to dress me up, or undress me?” You say, and she blushes all the way to a satisfying jade.

“I am wounded, Rose Lalonde! To think that I would imagine undressing a girl who I have not even gotten a proper first date out of!”

You rub the back of your head, “I still feel spectacularly stupid about that.”

Kanaya frowns, “Don’t worry about it. Just give me a better one this time.”

“Well then, shall we?” You ask, and put your arm through hers for the short walk to the car, to a giggle from her.

You continue flirting lightly during the car ride, although you’re less on your game because you are now _also_ driving, so you don’t manage to thoroughly fluster her along the way, and she manages to fluster you several times during the drive.

When you arrive, Kanaya speaks to the person at the front of the restaurant. Particularly, she speaks a strange language, one much more full of clicks and pops than any language you have ever heard. That must be Alternian.

“Wait, will we have to order in Alternian? Can you order for me?” You ask nervously as you are lead to your table.

She laughs, “Let us see, Rose. There are not nearly enough trolls on Earth to maintain the number of Alternian restaurants here, and there can not be more than twenty humans who speak Alternian in total - and none of you speak it well, given that you lack some of the required anatomy. Additionally there aren’t that many trolls, so nearly early every troll on Earth speaks the language of their resident country well. Do you think you would have to order in Alternian?”

The last bit is a playful question - she’s gently making fun of you for your assumptions, which is fair.

“That’s fair.” You laugh, “No, of course not.”

You’re given an English menu, whereas Kanaya is given one in Alternian. Still, even in English, a number of the words are completely unfamiliar to you. The ingredient names are mostly all things familiar to you - you start to realize that they are limited by the things available on Earth, although a select few things are things you _don’t_ recognize.

“Kanaya, do you have any suggestion for what I should eat? I’ll admit, I don’t understand any of the preparation techniques or the dish names, so I’m pretty useless.”

She suggests something you can’t pronounce, and you admit as much. She laughs, and tells you she’ll order for you.

When the waitstaff comes, Kanaya does order for you, much to your relief. After that, nerves start to wear off, and it begins to dawn on you that this isn’t that different from just hanging out with her. There is absolutely a possibility that this is part of building a romantic relationship with her, but that’s even true of every time you’ve spent time with her.

And that, that this is special but also not that special, finally gets you to relax.

You make small talk about your respective days for a few minutes, and while that’s charming, it hardly seems appropriate for a third-first date.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you.” You try. It can’t hurt, and if you’d really like this to be more than just awkward small talk.

“I have a passion for bad vampire romance novels.” She says, “Well, I have a passion for novels about vampires and also for the nearest Alternian cognate, which are rainbow drinkers, which are like vampires, but they prefer the daylight - that’s broadly considered strange, by the way because trolls were broadly nocturnal on Alternia, but most of us aren’t here because, while being awake during the day messes with our sleep somewhat, the day isn’t nearly bright enough to be distinguishable from our sense of “night” here anyway - and they glow in the dark.”

“Are we talking vampire novels like novels focusing on vampires as a main character, or about killing vampires?” You ask.

“The first one.” She says, “Honestly, I find the idea of killing vampires somewhat distasteful - they are sentient! Anyway, it is your turn: Tell me something that I do not know about you.”

You volley back and forth for a bit, and once your food comes, that stops for a bit so you can focus on the food - yours is unlike anything you’ve ever eaten before, although it’s not at all bad. You’re not really sure how to evaluate it, on some level. Eventually, you wind up focusing less on the food and more on each other, as your plates begin to clear, and your conversation turns to troll internal politics on earth.

“Well, those higher on the hemospectrum generally had better educations, and are more likely to adopt children higher on the hemospectrum.” She explains, “Plus, they are simply less likely to adopt children, since they are more likely to believe that the old ways only needed smaller changes, and thus are less comfortable with the idea of raising children instead of having luscii raise them. Not that there ARE any luscii here. Additionally, there are simply fewer children born higher on the hemospectrum. As a result, higher bloods are generally richer and lower bloods are generally poorer. This has massively set back any attempts to actually deconstruct hemoprejudice among trolls, since trolls higher on the hemospectrum make up much of the elite, although I suppose the old revolutionary leaders were often lowbloods, and they make up the elite of the elite socially, although not economically.”

“Wait, I thought all of the people here are either revolutionaries or their children. They’re still hemoprejudiced?” You ask, somewhat astonished.

Kanaya shrugs, “It is _much_ better than it was on Alternia. That does not mean that it is anywhere near perfect. I suppose if you asked Karkat’s brother, he would say that it was not nearly good enough, which I suppose is true, but I think it is also worth mentioning that something was accomplished in the uprising.”

“That makes sense.” You respond. You’re completely out of your depths here, which is fascinating. You’re so used to being the smartest person in the room, and therefore knowing almost everything anyone else has to say on a topic before they even say it, or worse to know why they are wrong. Here, however, you know _nothing_.

It makes you somewhat giddy, actually.

The bill comes, and Kanaya pays it.

“But I was going to pay!” You say petulantly.

“Well, you will just have to pay next time.” She grins, “Because I got there first.”

Next time. She wants there to be a next time. You want there to be a next time as well.

“Yeah.” You say, smiling broadly.

There will be a next time. There will be another date. You didn’t fuck this up this time.

* * *

You are Roxy Lalonde, and today is September 27. It feels like you and Jane have been awkward all the times you’ve interacted since you got to New York. You know you have a conversation to have about the state of your relationship, and you know you’ve both been avoiding it, because it’s frankly a terrifying conversation.  

You approach the guest room she’s staying in. It’s a terrifying conversation, but any outcome is better than the one that you have right now, where you avoid each other awkwardly because you are unsure how the conversation will turn out and don’t know if you can handle what the other will say. You will be friends after the conversation, at least, and you know that, and right now…

Right now it feels like you aren’t friends at all.

You knock on the door.

There’s a pause, and your heart breaks when she speaks.

“Who is it?” She asks, her voice shaking.

“It’s me.” You say, “Can we talk?”

There’s an even longer pause.

“Yes. Come in.” She says. She squashed all the vulnerability out of her voice, clearly trying to hide her nerves.

You open the door.

She’s sitting on the corner of the bed, and she gestures you to the chair as far away from her as possible. You swallow - is she just nervous, or is this an insult? Is she still mad at you? She hadn’t seemed like it before. You wish you were drinking so you could have this conversation drunk.

You know she prefers the conversation this way, though, and if you’re being honest, much as you wish you could be drunk for ease of conversation, you know that you’ll do a better job of having the it sober.

“So.” You begin, but tail off. You don’t know where you’re going with this at all.

“So.” She agrees.

“I guess… I guess I wanted to talk about us. Like, what are we, Jane?” You ask.

There’s a long pause, and Jane frowns, “Isn’t that up to you? You were the one who was upset with me. I guess I’d like to be angry at you for not backing off when I blocked you, but if I’m being honest, you were right about what needed to happen, and I was being stupid.”

That gives you pause. You expected this to be a complicated negotiation. She would be angry with you and you would be angry with her and you’d either work things out or not. Now, however, you’re just being asked to forgive her. Again.

You want to, but you don’t know if you should. Moreover, you’ve already forgiven her, but you’re being asked to trust her. You desperately want to, but how do you provide trust to someone who has already betrayed that very trust?

Sure, she’s here now, but will having to fight her every time she is convinced that she has to do something horrible be a part of your relationship for the rest of the time you are friends? If it is, then this cannot be a romantic relationship. When you were first young and in love, you would have believed that love alone could be enough, but you know the world better than that now, and now you know that love is less a thing conquering all the ill in the universe as a thing being conquered, at best.

It’s not like love has no part in evil, either.

“I.. don’t know!” You admit, voice shaking, “I want to fall in love, I want things to be simple, I want to just say ‘I love you and I want that to bloom into a relationship’ but… it’s not that simple, Jane! How can I trust you?”

She’s silent.

“That’s not a rhetorical question!” You say, and you can feel yourself crying, “I want you to tell me how I can trust you so I can trust you, but you made me a promise and you were ready to break it and the things I had to do to convince you to keep your promise might be compatible with friendship, but they aren’t compatible with love! When you said I violated a clear boundary you set, you weren’t wrong. That can’t happen if we have a relationship, but... how can I know that won’t happen again?”

She’s still silent. She looks like she’s about to cry, too, and you hate that. You hate this so much.

“I’m not trying to berate you here.” You say, “I don’t want to make you feel bad. I just… I want to make this work out. I don’t want to get involved in a relationship with you that is toxic.”

“Roxy.” She says, and she’s crying now. God, you made her cry, you’re such a piece of shit. You want to drown all this in alcohol, and you know you shouldn’t but you want so desperately to not feel this, “I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t know where we go from here.”

You don’t know either.

“Maybe I can just let you go if you decide you want to do something terrible?” You try.

“No.” She laughs, bitterly “No, that’s what I wanted last time. You promised you wouldn’t get dragged into whatever I was doing wrong. You can’t do that. You aren’t able.”

Now it’s your turn to pause. Whereas the last pauses drew quick responses, this one hangs in the air, like fog that stops you from seeing past two feet from your face. If it’s like fog, though, it’s like fog when you’re driving: You really need to be able to see. But, like fog, you have no clue what you could possibly do about it.

“Is that it, then?” You ask. You really don’t want that to be all. If it is, a romantic relationship is unworkable, then it’s unworkable.

“Maybe…” Jane hesitates. She shakes her head, “I’m not sure that’s fair to ask.”

“What?” You ask, “I can take care of myself if whatever you want is unreasonable.”

“Maybe, if we’re going to try to make something between us work, you have to trust me.”

“How?” You ask, “You already showed how willing you were to-”

“Did I?” She asks, “I don’t think I did! I think you decided I was wrong about the situation I was in. I think that you assumed I wasn’t trying. I think you tried to make my decisions for me, Roxy. I think maybe what you did was OK because we were friends and I needed somebody to check me, but if you want to make this about love and not about friendship, you have to trust me in a different way.”

You pause.

“I… I don’t know if I can do that.” You say. You don’t really want to sound scared, but your voice wobbles all the same.

“I think…” She pauses, trying to put the words in order, and then continues, faster, ”I think that’s what it takes to love someone, though. To at least trust them enough to be a person who supports them and not try to be their conscience. If you can’t trust me that much, I… That sucks, but it decides what we are.”

She’s probably right. At some point, you can’t negotiate with her to solve this problem. At some point, you have to decide: Do you want her, or not?

You’re not ready to say yes to that, but you’re not sure you’re willing to say no. But you still need to decide - it’s not fair to either of you for you to string her along forever. You feel like you might both be at a turning point in your lives, though. Yes, you weren’t willing to trust her then in the way she’s asking you to trust her now, but circumstances are about to be different. She’s about to be making her own choices, and while you’ll always know the kind of person she is willing to be when others tell her what she has to do, you don’t know who you would be in that context. It’s easy to judge someone when you're not at risk for having to make the same hard choices they have.

And you _want_ to trust her like that. You know you don’t, but that doesn’t mean you can’t. And it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t work for it.

You can’t keep her waiting forever, but… maybe it’s alright to keep her waiting a while?

“Can I make this call another day?” You ask, “I think… I think we’re both in important transitional points, and I want to work on trusting you, because I think you do and will deserve it, but right now I am pretty raw from what just happened. I guess I’m not even asking you to give me time to think, I know what my answer is. I’m asking you to give me time to prepare.”

She nods, “I think I can do time.”

* * *

You are Karkat Vantas, and today is the 29th. You and Dave are in English together, and you’re currently holding your notebook as far away from him as possible so that he can’t draw dicks in the margins.

“Hey, Karkat.” He says. He looks awkward, the way someone might be before asking someone out. You are momentarily worried you’re going to have to reject him: He seems like a nice enough guy, but you really don’t know him that well yet. Instead, he asks, in the most unconvincing ‘cool’ voice you’ve ever heard, “Would you like to hang out at my place today?”

“Su-Sure?” You say. You’re really puzzled as to why he looked so awkward before, at least for a moment. You decide he’s probably never asked anyone to hang out with him before: He did mention that he’d had a really rough time of it at home as a child, and that he generally didn’t hang out with other people back then.

“Sweet!” He says, completely losing his previous cool-kid impression. You snicker. He looks offended, “What?”

“Your ‘I’m cool and not worried’ impression is really spectacularly fucking unconvincing.” You say.

“I don’t have a cool impression. I am cool. Like, I am the very definition of cool! If you looked ‘cool’ up in a dictionary, you’d find a picture of my face and the words ‘this badass.’”

You snicker, “Hoofbeastshit."

“Hoofbeastsh-” Dave begins quizzically, before getting it, “Oh! You mean bullshit.”

“No, I meant what I said.” You respond, “Fuck you for thinking otherwise. I said _exactly_ what I meant, and you being too ethnocentric to understand slang form a culture outside your own definitely doesn’t help your cool case here, Strider. You lose 26 fucking coolness points, Strider.”

“Fuck, man, I got roasted.”

* * *

Your name is Jane Crocker, and it’s 3:30 PM on Thursday the 30th, and you’re bidding in the auction to purchase the part of what was until recently supposed to be your company that was the attempt to transition into the hardware market.

You lost slightly more than half of the company when you started the sale. You’d never strictly _owned_ it, just been theoretically set to inherit control of it. You had, after all, been set to inherit about 51% of the voting shares in the company, which was actually slightly less than half of the shares overall. Moreover, in the breaking up of the company, you had to pay back significant debts, which diminished the parts of the company _any_ shareholder could buy.

The various members of the transition committee owned 10% of the company by themselves. That’s nothing on what you owned, but it meant that they would wind up with some of it, which leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

Still, you got the chance to order the parts you want sold in what order, and now you are relatively certain you will be able to regain at least some portion of what you lost.

This part, the technology part however, is _really_ expensive. As you bid _again_ , you note that it’s costing you several times what it should, but you knew that would happen. After all, the sale of the company was ultimately about this small section of the company.

Still, you win. You knew you would - none of the individual board members owned that much of the company, and, at the same time, you are unquestionably the one most willing to go to the wall over this.

You sigh.

You won.

It cost you more money than most people would ever imagine, but you will lose no sleep over the decision. It was the right thing to do. That much is certain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally, I try to not make evaluative claims of my own work, but damn it, I die every time I get to the part where Roxy reads the headline on Jane's phone.
> 
> Anyway, we've got one more chapter left in this act. Which is good, because I want to leave a bunch of things right where they are, honestly, but there's at least one point where, at the end of this chapter, I'm saying something I don't mean to.
> 
> Oh hi also I'm going to start posting little bits of another project I'm working on on my tumblr in the next couple days, so look forward to that.


	13. Chapter 12: Roxy & Jane: Walk // Roxy: Kiss Her?

Your name is Roxy Lalonde, and you are sitting on a couch downstairs when you hear Jane emerge from the guest room. She’s moving out Saturday, since she can afford the hotel room and you weren’t going to ask your mother to put her up any longer. 

She walks down the stairs, and stands next to you, tapping you on the shoulder.

“Hey, Roxy. Want to take a walk?” She gives you her usual bucktoothed grin, but the way her hands are moving make you think she’s probably more anxious than she lets on. You hate that you can’t be all that surprised: things are pretty awkward between the two of you, and while they’ve gotten somewhat less awkward, you’re still asking her for time.

This isn’t fair. But you can’t do anything else - you aren’t ready to trust her as much as you feel you’d need to for a relationship, but you think you might be ready soon.

Still, she’s waiting for an answer, and you should give it to her.

“Totes, I’d love to.” You say. You can see her grimace as you say ‘totes’, which is almost as satisfying as the return of a slight, unforced smile afterwards.

You get up off the couch, and you walk together to the door.

You walk a ways away from the house in silence. It’s the late afternoon, and the world is bathed in a soft orange from the near-sunset. She is, too, and for a moment you wish you had Dave’s talent for photography. Sure, he always uses that talent to create shitty meme images, but he’s still good at it, and you would do just about anything to capture the image of her here and now, to keep forever.

You flick open your phone and take a picture, anyway. It might be less artsy than something your brother would do, but that’s fine. It’s still something you can keep with you. 

She laughs, and you realize how much you missed that dorky, toothy grin when she’s wearing it for some reason other than to cover up pain. She shoves you gently, and you play at being knocked completely off balance. She rolls her eyes. 

You both laugh, and then, after the laughing subsides, she tenses slightly again.

“Have you thought about the future lately?” She asks. You’re not really sure what she means.

You express as much, “Huh?”

“I mean, have you thought about what you’re going to be doing?”

You shrug, “Not really. I’m not sure I  _ have  _ much of a future, Janey. I guess I didn’t miss any friday tests, so I might well pass all the classes I was going to pass anyway this quarter, but I’m still a terrible student. I guess… I guess I’ve stopped drinking, but I’m not sure that’s a plan as much as it is a fact about the present, now.”

“I noticed.” She says, “I… wow, I meant for that to be a smooth transition into ‘let’s talk about my future’, so I feel kind of like an ass.”

You shrug, “I guess. It doesn’t really matter, I wanna hear about you, anyway. My future hasn’t changed that much.”

She nods, “I bought the part of the company that the disagreement was over today. It cost me a lot more than it should, but I successfully stopped the most fucked up things from happening. I mean, I guess the members of the advisory board got some parts of the company, too, and they’ll be able to buy parts of other companies, as well, but on the other hand, I think they were probably going to find a way to get the whole company otherwise, so.”

She looks sad. You knew this cost her a lot, but it wasn’t until yesterday that she told you that she expected to lose more than half of the company.

“I’m proud of you.” You say.

“I don’t understand why. You said you didn’t trust me before.”

You shrug, “I’m still proud of you. You did  _ this _ right. I don’t know if you’ll do everything right, but I hope you will, and I’m practicing believing in you even when it’s hard.”

“You still don’t think I’m trustworthy, then.”

“It’s a matter of thresholds.” You try to explain, “Like, my priors were that I trusted you 99.99%, and I wanted, like, a 95% threshold to feel safe dating someone. You screwed me over once, and that changed how much I trusted you to, like, 99.9%, and then you promised me you wouldn’t do it again. And then you looked ready to break your promise and that was a huge violation of my trust, and so, I dunno, by the bullshit mangling of Bayesian statistics we’re pretending to employ here, I only trust you, like, 90% and not 95%.”

“Is that an answer, then?”

“No.” You say, “It’s not my answer. I think my answer is actually kinda loosely the opposite, on some level. I don’t know what to call the thing I want with you right now. I’d just call it ‘dating’, but I don’t know if I even know you well enough to date you at this point. I haven’t really seen you in five years, except for a few days when we were eighteen and a few days now. But I loved,  _ love _ the person you were. I hope to the person you are. I  _ want  _ to love the person you are

I want to work on this. I want to spend time with you intentionally. I want to talk to to you, to walk with you, I want you to spend time with me around my family. I want to spend time with you around our mutual friends. We’ve tiptoed around each other for a long time, and I think we both avoided each other a lot out of fear of our feelings. Like, I want to fall in love with  _ you _ , not my projection of a girl I once knew onto a girl who is half avoiding me.

I guess I say it’s loosely the opposite because I thought a lot about this and the more I think about it the more it sounds like dating. I don’t want to create an expectation I’m not going to follow through on. I loved you before. I hope I’ll love the person you are now, but I don’t know that for certain, and I want to be friends with you no matter what, because you are my best friend, Jane.”

She’s smiling by the end of your speech, but she’s smiling half-heartedly. You suppose what you said was not so much happy as bittersweet. It was honest, but honesty doesn’t always make the people you care about happy. 

“That’s probably a good idea.” She says. That doesn’t change that her smile reads ‘bittersweet’ and not ‘super excited’. You feel pretty bittersweet, though. Bittersweet and hopeful, a neat halftone. She continues,  “It is certainly a better idea for us to take this slow.”

“Yeah.” You say.

You both are quiet for a few moments. 

It’s a nice afternoon, for early fall. You’re wearing a light jacket - it’s not cold, but it’s chilly enough that you can tell it’s not summer. The leaves are starting to change, but only just, and the thing that seems most notable is that for the late afternoon, the sun stands too close to the horizon, already setting.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about school stuff, Rolal.” Jane says.

You shrug, “I feel fucking terrible about it, lol. That’s not your fault, though.”

“Isn’t it? I’ve been telling you you weren’t taking things seriously enough, that you weren’t-”

“Sure, alright.” You agree, “It’s a little bit your fault. I hope you’ll be on my side from now on - still,  it’s not like I never got where you’re coming from. It’s fucking impossible to explain what I mean when I say everything is structured in all the wrong ways and I lose all of it, it’s not like I never think, ‘well, maybe I’m just lazy and dumb.’”

“But you’re not lazy and dumb!” She says.

“Aren’t I, though? I’m the girl who never gets anything done and parties instead. Height of laziness. And, like, stopping partying helped some. Sure, I’m not doing as well as my peers, but I’m doing a lot better. And I get better as I get older, which says that if I just knew the right things to do, I could succeed. How is that different from being lazy?”

“You already said how it was different - you lose track of shit, and it’s not like anyone will help you if you ask, at least, not in the ways you want help. A calendar isn’t a real answer, and I’ve read you say that’s what you were offered. Sure, you get better at playing rigged games. That doesn’t make them any less rigged.” She says.

You shrug, “Maybe. Thanks for being supportive.”

“Somebody should be.”

“ _ Rose _ isn’t.” You say, “And she has no right not to be.”

“Have you been supportive of Rose?” Jane asks.

She has you there.

“Not really.”

There’s another lull in conversation. There’s really nothing to be said about that, no right answer to ‘I haven’t stood by the people I love in the way I ought to’, except maybe guilt and doing better next time - or perhaps there are many things to be said, but you’re not in the presence of the young woman to whom you should say them. 

Jane, similarly, has nothing to say there. She’s proved her point. She’s not smirking at all - if anything, she looks troubled. You want to ask her not to judge you, but that would be pretty hypocritical. You are, after all, currently judging her for the things she’s done wrong, and yeah, you could beg her to understand, but you understand why she did the things she’s done.

So you walk, and she looks thoughtful, one of the times you glance over from the road, or the trees, or the sky.

“Roxy, am I naive?” She asks.

“I don’t follow.” You say.

“I bought in to what a bunch of people were selling me about how what we were doing was just normal. I didn’t listen to you when you said that things weren’t normal, because I didn’t believe the people around me would do the horrible things you’d accused them of. Does that make me naive?”

“Yeah, probably.” You say. “I don’t know why you didn’t listen to your actual friends, though.”

“I just told you. I didn’t listen to you because I didn’t want to believe the people around me were capable of that kind of those things.”

“And also because my sources were  _ right _ , but maybe not  _ convincing _ .”

“Well, yes. Sending me something from Trotskyweekly wasn’t super convincing.”

“I have  _ never _ sent you something from a trotskyist paper.”

“April seventeenth, 2041.” She says, “I wrote it down.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll look it up tonight.” You laugh, “But what you said before, that wasn’t what I asked. Why didn’t you listen to your  _ actual _ friends? I know you weren’t super close to anyone there, but, like, if your friends told you ‘hey, no, that’s not what’s going on where I am, things are fucked but nobody is taking over people’s brains’”

“I didn’t have friends, Roxy.” She says, “Don’t get me wrong, you’re precious to me, but I was trying desperately to avoid you for years because I was desperately in love with you and didn’t want to be. If I had other people to talk to, I would have been way better at talking to you less.”

You knew that, when you were seventeen and eighteen, she was avoiding you as much as you were avoiding her. You’d sort of misunderstood what had been happening, though. You’d assumed that she had made friends, and had only been contacted you because she wanted to talk to you; you were old friends, and you couldn’t stay away from her.

Your assumptions had made sense: you had made friends! Some of the folks you’d partied with are still your friends - a few of them have been very supportive of your decision to stop drinking, and will probably be your friends for a long time. 

But she hasn’t made friends. She’s been so isolated, and you’d just assumed she was fine. 

“I feel kinda guilty, actually. I was isolated as a kid and you stood by me even when everyone was awful to me, and I didn’t even notice you were suffering.”

She shakes her head, “No, no! You were there for me when I was alone. Please, you did so much for me, you were my lifeline, don’t feel bad.”

You frown, “But I threatened to leave. I threatened to completely isolate you. That is totes not cool, Jane, and I didn’t even know I was doing it.”

“Rolal, less than a month and a half ago, I said that a bunch of children who died deserved it. You were more than patient with me.”

“But… I didn’t even know what I was doing. I would have talked to Dirk, or Jake, and made sure that someone was talking to you, or-” 

She smiles slightly, “No, if I stuck to that, I deserved to be alone. What I said was awful, Rox. Don’t apologize for stopping me from becoming a monster, I won’t accept your apology.”

“Alright, alright.”

“Also, I’m sorry I was so judgy about everything, Roxy. I didn’t know that it allowed you to connect with people for real. I assumed you were being used like I was.”

You shrug, “Even if they weren’t using me, even if they were authentic and good doesn’t mean that what I was doing was good for me, lol. I will probably die younger for the drinking I’ve already done.”

Jane frowns at that, “Don’t talk like that!”

“It’s true.” You say.

“I really don’t want to think about it, though.”

“Well, thank you for always being there to remind me that my drinking was maybe not so great, and that I should be careful with the other things I did with my body. I wish you’d maybe read some about the drugs I was doing, because some of that really was safer than drinking, but you still weren’t wrong that I was endangering myself.”

She shrugs, “We were a mess.”

“We were a mess.” you agree.

* * *

You grab coffee together that Sunday. Jane insists that she’s paying, which, since she’s making an effort not to do awful things for her money, you suppose you can’t argue against. Or rather, you can, but your argumentation is short lived.

“Roxy, do you know how much money I’m worth? Do you know how much money I’m left with in just liquid assets?” She asks, “I have  _ millions of dollars _ . I am worth more than a billion dollars. I do not know what to do with all this wealth. Please, let me spend eight bucks buying you coffee.”

You shrug as you enter the coffee shop, “Alright, fine. You can buy me coffee. I’m still buying next time - I don’t care how much money you’re worth, I want to feel like I’m pulling my weight around here. I’m surprised you don’t know what to do with having a lot of money, though. I thought you had a lot of money the moment you took the company.”

“Sure, but not like this. The training wheels position paid terribly for a CEO, although super well for a normal job. If I moved my pay to the level of a normal CEO for a company of the same size, it’d have been like 30 times higher. What do you do with a million dollars, Roxy? What do you do with 12 million dollars after even the highest imaginable amount of tax? What do you do with millions of dollars a year?”

“I don’t know, buy something nice? Never work again? The second one sounds kinda boring, though.” You say, “Give a bunch of money away? Buy a yacht? Millions of dollars a year is a  _ lot _ of money, and a billion dollars of wealth sounds like the useless kind of a lot. Also, buy me coffee more.” 

You wink after the last bit, and she smirks, “I guess it’d be nice to help people. I don’t really want a yacht, and while I definitely want to buy you coffee often, I don’t really think that that does anything meaningful to solve the problem.”

“I don’t think you should get a yacht.” You agree, “You did ask how you could spend all that money, though.”

“I did ask that.” She laughs, “Surely you would get on my case about buying a yacht if I actually did it, though. ‘Janey, you can do better than that. Janey, is that the best way of using those resources? Janey, there are children starving in your neighborhood.’”

“Probably, although I don’t think I’m as much of a self-righteous prick as you make me sound.” You grimace, embarrassed.

She waves her hands back and forth defensively, “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that! You’ve just hold me to a high moral standard, and I appreciate that. I like that you expect me to be a good person, even if it’s really sucked this month, and I appreciate the person you’ve made me improve into. I wish you’d trust me a bit more, but I also know that I should have trusted you more, and listened to you more.” 

That’s… actually really nice. You like the idea that you make her a better person, and if you’re honest, her concern about you is part of why you’re working to take better care of yourself. It’s not that stopping drinking has been easy, but she has been  _ there _ , and you knew that she would see you, and that she would be disappointed and scared, and you would have to deal with that, and that’s been a good incentive.

“Thanks.” You smile, “I think you make me a better person, or at least better at being a person, too. Things have been kinda bad recently, but I’m super glad you’re here now, and that you’re around people you care about.”

“Yeah.” She says. There’s a moment’s companionable silence, and then she says, “Hey, you know what I’m going to do with some of the money? I’m going to see if I can do anything to help fix up area that got taken over by the terrorist group the company funded.”

“I think that’s a really good idea.” You say, and you do. You do think it’s a really good idea, and you’re really glad you’re in this place now.

* * *

You are Jane Crocker, and it’s the next Wednesday, You’re grabbing lunch with Roxy, she’s sitting across the table from you, and you’re waiting on your food. She’s got a troubled expression on, like something is getting to her, and it breaks your heart a little bit.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, because you can’t just let her sit there and stew.

“Idk if this is the right time to talk about it. It’s bullshit you’ve heard before, and I don’t want to drag you back into it if we’re working on having important conversations and shit.”

You roll your eyes, “Roxy, I want to hear what you’re thinking. You’re clearly suffering, and I don’t know what to do for you, but I want to help.”

“I guess it’s a good news/bad news thing. The good news is I’m probably going to pass all my classes this quarter.”

“But that’s great!” You say, because Roxy’s struggles with school have been a fight for her for some time.

“The bad news is that I still know more than the professors most of the time and I’m going to get, like, a two seven if I keep this up. It’s not even that I’m not trying! I’m trying so hard to keep up with everything but things just slip through! I’m taking better care of myself, I’m not drinking, I don’t know what to do about this! I fucking tried to keep a calendar this week and I realized today that I missed half of my assignments anyway.”

“That sucks.” You say, “But… It sounds like you’re getting better at it, and it sounds like you’ll graduate if you keep this up?”

You offer that hopefully, but you know that she’s upset because she’s capable of so much more than this, and…

“Maybe.” She says, “But even if I do, there’s no university worth mentioning that will admit me. This is bullshit, Jane.”

“Yeah.” You say. You’re not going to lie to her. It is bullshit. She’s upset for the right reasons. This is actually upsetting. But there’s nothing you can do. There’s no help you can offer and she’s mad and you’re mad and there’s just nothing that can be done about all this. “But if it’s getting better maybe you can get through it. I don’t know.”

“No, you’re probably right. I’ll probably get better at handling this absolute bullshit. A two seven is better than a one seven, which is better than a one three. I just hate that it has to be me that gets better and not the world I exist in.”

“That’s fair.” You say, “It’s some absolute nonsense, and I can understand being mad about it. I just… I hope it works out for you, at least?”

Your food comes, and the conversation gets lighter. Roxy still looks kind of upset, but that passes, too. There comes a point in meal when it feels like the summer when you were sixteen, and you say so.

“Except you’re not leaving this time.” Roxy says. 

“Are you still mad about that?” You ask. You can’t really forget the night that she raged at you over pesterchum, drunk and almost completely incomprehensible.

“I was never mad.” She says, “I just… I had a crush on you, and you were leaving. It hurt. I know that’s not your fault, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t suck.”

You nod, “It sucked for me, to.”

“I’m glad you’re back.” She says with a smile.

* * *

You are Roxy Lalonde, it’s Monday, and Jane is taking you to dinner tonight!

That’s pretty exciting, since it feels much more like a date than a lunch or getting coffee together does. What’s more exciting is that you’ve made a decision.

You’re asking her to do this for real, no ‘this is a trial’ or ‘well I want to make this work so maybe I’ll spend time with you and see where this goes’ bullshit. You are going to ask her out. For real. You’re still not totally over all the shit that went down in September and late August, but on the other hand, you make her a better person, and she makes you a better person, and she’s going to do wonderful things with the money she’s inherited, and yeah, you know who she is in the dark, but she did the right thing, ultimately, and she’s going to do better now.

You consider putting on the suit you wore to the prom you went to alone, but you think that might be too much before you’ve had The Conversation, so you put on a dress, instead. It’s not so fancy that it screams  _ IF YOU’RE NOT ALSO FANCY YOU’RE OUT OF LINE _ , but it similarly could probably pass for fancy in a pinch.

A couple minutes later, she texts you she’s on her way to pick you up - she has the nicer car, with the additional side benefits that 1) it’s not a shared car, unlike what you and Rose have, and 2) it’s fully self-driving, which means that she doesn’t need to find parking, so her car is almost always preferable.

She shows up to your door in a similarly practical outfit - although hers is two pieces, a ambiguously fancy shirt and skirt. She looks wonderful in it, of course. She looks wonderful all the time, actually, but she looks particularly wonderful like this, but still, you can’t help but look at her and laugh.

“Is something off about my outfit?” She asks.

“Not at all.” You say through a laugh, “You look  _ gorgeous.  _ We both just clearly asked, ‘is this fancy? Eh w/e I’ll just take something neutral’ instead of texting each other.”

“In my defense.” Jane says, but she’s smiling that bucktoothed smile that you adore, “I’m the one in the doghouse here, and you’re the one determining the nature of our relationship.”

“Well…” You say, and then you pause, because you’re actually a little nervous. You know she liked you a couple weeks ago, but what if she’s decided that you’re too wishywashy, or too unforgiving? The train of thought is still stupid, but it’s hard to ask someone out in any case, even if you’re kind of already dating, “How about we change that.”

“How so?” She asks, and she looks nervous, and you realize that ‘changing that’ could also be understood to mean breaking up with her. Or she could just be nervous because she’s about to break up with you and has been afraid to say it and is worried that she’ll have to say it now because you’re trying to make the relationship deeper. You don’t know!

“How about we make this not just a trial thing.” You say, your mouth a little dry, “How about we make this for real? How about we make today our anniversary, and this a real date? Would - would you like that?”

“Yes!” She says, grinning widely, “Yes! Yes yes yes absolutely, Roxy.”

“That wasn’t a full sentence, Jane.” You smirk.

“Bite me.”  She laughs, “I don’t think excited exclamations are grammatically required to have a sentence structure anyway.”

“Sounds dangerously close to some deconstructionist bullshit. You might have to join me in a time period later than like, the mid 20th century and realize that language is how people actually speak.” You grin, “You better be careful on that slippery slope, or you’ll be saying lol out loud.”

“If that’s the cost for being excited about being asked out for real, it’s a worthwhile price.” She says.

She leads you out to the car, and opens your door for you, which you admit is a nice touch.

“I know you were nervous before.” She says, “And weren’t sure you could trust me and all. What changed your mind?” 

“You’re good for me.” You begin, “We talked about it the other day. You make me a better person. And it seems like I make you a better person, too. I think that’s an auspicious thing for a relationship, making each other better. Plus, I’m convinced you’re trying your best to do the right thing, and maybe you won’t always be perfect, but as long as you’re trying, well, that’s all anyone can do. I don’t promise I won’t break up with you if you start doing horrible shit like arming terrorist groups, but I don’t think you’ll do that, and dating someone isn’t marrying them. So… yeah, that’s why.”

Dinner is nice - the place she takes you is a moderately fancy steakhouse. It’d probably be out of your price range, but she’s rich as shit. You’ll admit that you’re a little uncomfortable having that kind of money spent on you, and you realize that’s a conversation you should probably have later, that you don’t want to feel as if she’s trying to buy your love, but at the same time, for the night, you can put up with that. 

Tonight, you just want to celebrate a new relationship.

“Do you want to catch a movie after this? My treat.” You say. After all, dinner and a movie is a classic first date thing, and you are nothing if not a lover of that which is classic.

“Yes, I’d like that.” Jane says.

After dinner, she sets the car to drive to the movie theater, and on the way there you talk through what you want to watch. There’s not a lot good on, but there is a nature documentary running, which you both think you’ll like enough, so you go to that. 

Once you’re settled into the movie theater, though, you’re having a hard time focusing on the movie, because she’s there, and she’s so pretty, and you just want to kiss her. For a moment, you’re mind does the instinctive thing, the ‘you can’t kiss her here, she’s your friend and that would give too much away’, but once you get past instinct, you realize that’s not true, that she’s not  _ just _ your friend anymore.

“Janey.” You whisper in her ear, “Can I kiss you?”

You’re the kind of nervous where your mouth dries out and your hands shake, but you want this a lot, and you want to be able to kiss her, not just now, but you want it to be a thing you do, and you can’t start that unless you ask.

She nods, apparently your  _ girlfriend, _ usually masterful with her words, is at a loss for them now. 

You lean in, and kiss her.

It’s a gentle thing, something soft, and it only lasts a moment before you lean out. You see her smile, and you smile, too. It’s probably the first time you’ve kissed her anything like that - when you were younger, all of your kisses were hungry and needy, and while you are still hungry and needy for her, that can wait.

Right now, what you want is sweet, so you lean in to kiss her gently again.

**END OF ACT ONE.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sharing this journey with me! I hope you liked act 1. There'll be a short intermission between act 1 and act 2, both in the sense that I'm going to give myself a slightly slower schedule to build up a draft buffer, and also because there's literally an intermission piece I've written that focuses in a different place and time than the main story takes place in. 
> 
> Thanks for reading :).


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